


Forgotten Vows

by theimaginesyouneveraskedfor



Series: Forgotten Vows [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-13
Updated: 2017-05-11
Packaged: 2018-09-17 06:15:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 47,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9308891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theimaginesyouneveraskedfor/pseuds/theimaginesyouneveraskedfor
Summary: Yeyette's father, King Bernard, has died and her family's kingdom is in a state of mourning and despair. To protect her people and the legacy of her fore bearers, the princess must leave her homeland for an arranged marriage to the Prince of Mirkwood, Legolas Greenleaf.





	1. Mirkwood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeyette, an elf of the Forest Meadows, arrives to meet her husband in Mirkwood.

Yeyette had never wanted to be married. Long ago when she was still an elfling, she had told her father so and he had promised her she would never need do anything against her desires. Now he was gone and she was left with little choice. She was to be wed to an elven prince and her father’s vow was to fade along with the memories of him.

She swayed with the rocking of the carriage, starring at the diamond cloak pin which rested at her mother’s throat. She would look into her eyes but Yeyette could no longer stomach the pity and helplessness which shadowed her mother’s green irises. It was not the dowager queen’s fault that she was to marry, nor was it the dead king’s, or even her brother, the new king. The winter had taken too much from the Frost Meadows and the kingdom would not recover without aid. If her hand could buy the lives of her people, Princess Yeyette of the Niqeth would wed a troll, even an orc.

She turned to glance out the window, pulling back the sheer curtain with one finger. The wedding would be tomorrow. The very day she would see her betrothed for the first time. She had heard he was handsome, though he would be. Mirkwood elves were known for their natural beauty and she had grown up with legends of King Thranduil’s elegance. Said to be as hardened and sparkling as the diamond clasped at her mother’s throat.

She dropped the curtain with a muted sigh and sat back against the hard wood of the carriage seat. She did not care if he was handsome. She did not want any husband, be him grotesque or otherwise. She reached for her belt out of habit but did not find the pommel of her gilt sword, only the heavy silk of her skirts.

“Daughter, I know this is difficult,” Yeyette’s mother spoke for the first time in more than an hour, “But it will not be so bad. I had thought I would die when I was told I would marry your father. Would that I could go back to our wedding day now.”

“I know, Mother,” The princess pulled her sleeves over her fingers as the anxiety nipped at her ears, “It was my choice, though. I would not change it now or then, if I could. It’s for the good of the Niqeth.”

“Oh, Yeyette,” Queen Thea sounded close to tears. “You cannot build a marriage on such reasoning. It will only grow into resent. When you meet the prince on the morrow, try to find some good in him. If he is honest, learn to love that. If he is kind, cherish his generosity.” She leaned forward and took her daughter’s hands in hers, “Give him a chance and it may not be a terrible as you have made it in your mind.”

“I know, Mother,” Yeyette tried not to sulk but with every turn of the wheels, she felt another step towards the gallows. She was being selfish and stubborn. Her sister had gone away years ago to marry a noble of Rivendell. He had proven a fine man and she had found happiness and all without a single word of complaint.

“Your father did mean it, though,” Her mother’s voice was sad and her eyes watery. It was near impossible for the queen to speak of her beloved husband without tearing up. It always made it so much harder for Yeyette to hold herself together. “He had never wanted you to marry, either. You were his little warrior and he had always said you were far too rebellious to be any elf’s wife.”

“He is not the one breaking the promise,” Yeyette looked to the burgundy silk of her lap, “And he would not be so unhappy. Not if it saves the Frost Meadows.”

“I dare say he loved you more than his kingdom, dear,” Thea pulled away to wipe away the welling in her eyes, “The winter has taken so much…our crops, our livestock, our king.”

“Mother, do not weep, please,” The princess pleaded as she took her mother’s hands back, “Please, there will be enough tears in the days to come.”

“There will,” She agreed and squeezed her daughter’s hands before releasing them once more and looked to the sheer curtains, “We are almost there. It has been years since I have travelled to Mirkwood. The last time I visited, the queen had still been living and the prince…he is only a few years younger than you, dear.”

“Yes, you have told me,” Yeyette leaned back and closed her eyes, “I am sure I will find your words to be true upon the morrow when I lay eyes upon the golden prince of the forest.”

Queen Thea sent one last look of pity to her daughter and remained silent, knowing it was better to let her daughter brood. She was like her father that way. King Bernard was a man who had been often lost in his own thoughts, though he was well-spoken and a finer king than many before him. He had been an even better father, as well. Much better than Thea was a mother.

The wheels spun noisily, throwing up pebbles and twigs as the carriage ground along the forest trail. The trees stood thick around them, giants beneath the setting sun, branches stretching towards the sky like a babe reaching for their mother. The trunk grew further apart and the dimming light of the evening broke through the leaves as the great palace of Mirkwood came into sight.

The carriage crossed the mossy bridge which curved over a gorge and passed under archways of oak and lichen. The wheels rolled easier along the beaten dirt until the driver finally pulled the horses to a stop before the large double doors of the palace. Tendrils of ivy crawled up the crystal and oaken doors and the castle merged with the land. The difference between what was natural and elven-made was near indefinable.

The driver tapped on the roof of the carriage and the weight shifted as he climbed down from his seat. Yeyette opened her eyes and sat straight as the small door was opened and the steps pulled down to land in a cloud of dust against the ground. Her mother urged her down first, following her with a grumble about her aging joints.

The princess stood straight, gladdened to be free to stretch her legs while her mother waited regally by her side. The luggage carts which had followed pulled up shortly after, lingering further back, as Queen Thea began to frown. She looked up at the doors and then to her daughter, her hands going to her hips with disapproval.

“Where in the world is our host?” Thea furrowed her brow, her graceful features looking as ugly as they ever could. Her green eyes and honey-coloured hair made it difficult for her to ever appear anything but astonishing. Even as she aged, the grey had yet to appear in her locks and only the shallowest of wrinkles could be traced along her pale skin.

“What’s another hour of waiting?” Yeyette kicked her toe as she gave her sardonic reply, “If this is an omen of my marriage, I should be worried indeed.”

“Oh, daughter,” Her mother laughed at her dark jest. It was a quip characteristic of the old king and it returned Yeyette’s thoughts back to her beloved father, “You do have a terrible humour.”

Before the princess could reply with another sharp remark, the tall doors which rested at the top of the carved steps lurched and began to recede inward. The doors creaked to a stop on their great hinges and attendants streamed out in livery of silver and pale blue. Princess Yeyette and Queen Thea turned and stood straight as they watched the train of elves descend around them.

A horn was sounded and a tall figure appeared at the doors. Yeyette knew in an instant who the lone elf was as he stood sternly at the top of the stairs. His silver eyes flashed as they settled on the visiting queen and her daughter, his pale hair unmoving despite the evening breeze. His robe was a deeper silver than the attendants, lined with red satin, and his head was crowned with metal flames of silver and gold. 

King Thranduil was even more magnificent than the tales foretold and Yeyette no longer felt like a princess. He began down the steps deliberately, taking his time in descending. His face betrayed no emotion or hint of his thoughts. His porcelain skin appeared to glow even in the setting light and his lithe movements made it look as though he were floating.

“Queen Thea of the Frost Meadows,” He reached the bottom of the steps and neared the Niqeth visitors, “I am pleased to welcome you to Mirkwood at last.” He took the queen’s proffered hand and kissed it lightly before looking to the princess, “And this must be your daughter, Princess Yeyette.”

As he neared and raised Yeyette’s hand, she watched him carefully, unable to look anywhere else. He lifted her hand to his mouth, his eyes remaining on hers and she could not tell if it were content or disappointment she saw behind his flawless features. He rescinded her hand as he straightened and bowed to them both with a courtly smile.

“If you would,” He stepped back and waited for his visitors to approach the steps, “My servants have set out a meal for us and we shall discuss the coming nuptials while we dine.”

“Thank you, King Thranduil,” Thea took the lead, nudging her daughter into motion as she climbed the steps, “We are very grateful for your kindness.”

Yeyette walked beside her mother up the carved stairs, her heart sinking as she climbed higher. An attendant led them inside and the Mirkwood king followed behind silently as they were taken along the winding bridges of the interior. The wooden walkways nearly made Yeyette sick and she feared she would trip and fall over the side at any moment.

Finally, they were halted before a set of rounded doors with elvish runes set into the façade. The attendant pushed them open and the three elvish royals entered without a word. A large round table painted with images of vines and prancing deer stood center, covered with platters of roasted vegetables, colourful salads, and fragrant berries. A crystal bottle of golden wine sat beside an urn of clear water and golden dishes were set before each chair.

“My ladies,” Thranduil brushed by Yeyette and Thea, the attendant pulling out a chair as the king passed him. “Please, you must be hungry from the road.”

The queen took the first seat and Yeyette, never one to wait for courtly etiquette, pulled out her own chair and sat impatiently. Thranduil was the last to lower himself, abiding by custom, and he offered his guests a goblet of the pale wine. Yeyette was too nervous for alcohol and poured herself water instead while Thea gladly accepted the king’s offer.

“It has been quite a time since I last saw Mirkwood,” The queen began, sipping from her goblet between words, “But it is a splendid as I remember. Does this realm ever find itself touched by the vicious winter or is it the land of summer?”

“We have snows but nothing so heavy as the Meadows,” Thranduil answered, swirling the wine in his glass though he did not drink from it, “I have always admired the Niqeth for their resilience. I have never favoured the cold.”

“As you may have heard, this past winter was especially hard,” Thea spoke in her queenly way, in that voice which never cracked. “The winter plague and endless snows. Even now we still have the occasional storm and it seems there will not be a harvest this year.”

“I have heard,” Thranduil assured as he set down his glass, “Something which I am glad to help with now that our alliance is to be secured. You will return to your people with all that is required until your crops return and the snows recede.”

“And we thank you,” Thea drank again, this time more deeply before she looked to her daughter, “Our children should be very happy together, won’t they? Though I have not heard much of your son.”

“Legolas,” Thranduil’s eyes followed the queen’s to Yeyette who listened silently, keeping her face blank, “He is a gentle elf. Brave and well-mannered. A great fighter and one day a greater king. He is honourable and I should hope and expect he will treat your daughter kindly.”

“As you did the dwarves,” Yeyette said sharply, though her voice was not so venomous as it could be, “We have heard of how Mirkwood treats those in need. Even in the desolate Meadows.”

“Do you not desire this marriage?” The king asked plainly as his hand rested lightly on the table before him, “For I am certain I could find another princess for my son.”

“She did not mean it like that,” Thea assured Thranduil and sent a pointed look to her daughter, “Yeyette can be blunt with her words, I know, but she will come to love your son. I know it. You know how these affairs are. Such marriages are always difficult at first.”

“My apologies,” The princess reminded herself that she had been given a choice and she had offered herself for the kingdom, “I am tired and I forget myself.”

“I understand, Princess, the journey is not an easy one,” His silver eyes cleared and it was as if he were truly seeing her for the first time. He was taking her in, judging her.

 _What did he see with his sharp eyes? Did he think her not so comely as her mother?_ She had no inherited her looks from the queen but rather took closely after her father. She had her father golden eyes rather than her mother’s vibrant jade and her hair was dark and horribly curly while her mother’s was the colour of honey and spun of pure silk. Yeyette had not even inherited those traits typical to most elves. She was shorter than most and rather than a graceful litheness, she was wiry with muscle and her movements more deliberate than elegant.

“Oh dear me, I seem to have forgotten myself,” Thea spoke up before silence could enclose the table, “My son, the king, Ciaran, he sends his regards. Of course, he sent with us the final agreement. It has been marked with Niqeth arms and signed. The terms are as you requested.”

“Then I should think our alliance will be set in stone on the morrow,” The king retrieved his glass from the table top as he reclined in his chair, “But let us eat and put aside politics for the moment.” He sipped at his wine for the first time and Yeyette took her own glass in hand. She was glad she had opted for water otherwise her stomach would be even stormier than it already was.


	2. Brocade and Pearls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeyette’s wedding day arrives swiftly and she meets her husband for the first time.

Morning light streamed through the round windows between the drapes in skewed slats, limning the creases of the blankets twisted around Yeyette’s legs. She had not slept that night but instead lay inert and awake, staring at the ceiling. Branches were curled into intricate patterns above, an open canopy revealing the craft work to the sleepless. She sighed and kicked at the covers. She felt as if this was to be the last day of her life.

She sat up and tugged the blankets away from her body, her eyes settling on the carved closet door which stood across from her. She had shoved her wedding gown within during the night as she had stared at it with dread for far too long. The peridot brocade had become a sickening hue in her eyes and she would rather walk the aisle in her hunting clothes. Those, however, were packed away in trunks which were not to be opened to her until after she wed.

She stood reluctantly and rounded the end of the bed to stand by the window. She pulled aside the curtains and the morning light glowed richly through the fired glass. Yeyette turned back to the room and found her way to one of the cushioned chairs which sat before the unlit hearth. A long coffee table stood between the two straight-backed chairs and a large bouquet of pale flowers were placed upon it.

Yeyette closed her eyes and let her head lean against the back of the chair. Now that she knew there were only hours left to her, she was exhausted and all she wanted was to sleep through the day. Her eyelids thickened with fatigue but snapped open as a knock came at the door. The sound was cacophonous as it split the quiet of the morning.

The door opened before she could rise or call to her visitor and Yeyette watched silently as a slender elf pushed through her door. She was tall with straw like hair pulled back tightly behind her head. Her dress was the pale grey of servants and the princess rose to greet her.

“Hello?” Yeyette tried to smile at her guest but instead her lips trembled and fell.

“My lady,” The elf bent her head forward, her hands clasped before her tightly, “I have been sent to serve as your ladyservant. Would you like me to have breakfast brought up?”

“Breakfast? Please,” The princess accepted though she was not sure she would be able to eat, “What is your name?”

“Enid,” She answered meekly. She had been well-trained and Yeyette wished she had been allowed to bring her own ladyservant, Lena. Her mother had advised against it as Lena had children in the Frost Meadows and she had realised how unfair it would be.

“Enid,” She repeated the name softly, “Lovely. When you are finished fetching breakfast, I would think it best to have a bath drawn.”

“It is already being done, my lady,” Enid nodded her head once more, “I will return with your meal.”

“Thank you,” Yeyette called after the maid who was swifter than a field mouse, leaving her to herself as she scurried through the door.

As she waited for her breakfast, Yeyette paced the small space between bed and hearth, circling the chairs as she did. She could not longer sit still as the time dragged by and she knew that once she had eaten, she would be sent to her fate. The closer she got, the more certain she became that she could not go through with it. The way the king had looked at her the night before, _how could she be certain that his son would not share the same look?_

“My lady,” Enid re-entered, this time with two other elves on her heels, “The bath has been readied so you may bathe once you have eaten.”

“Thank you, Enid,” Yeyette watched as her new ladyservant set her tray down on the oblong coffee table before opening the small door which neighboured the hearth.

“The bath chamber is through here,” She advised and the other two women went through, “There is another door within through which they brought the water as to not disturb you. They will help you wash and then do your hair.”

“Isn’t that your job?” The princess asked and resumed her seat before the hearth, picking a cherry from the tray of food.

“It is,” She answered in a light tone, “I will help them, of course. And then we will get you dressed. Where is your gown?”

“In the closet,” Yeyette grumbled through a mouth full of cherry before spitting out the pit, “It’s hideous.”

Enid opened the folding door and pulled forth the green dress and Yeyette cringed as she plucked a piece of clementine from the platter. The fruit was sour and nearly made her choke, though she was not sure it had nothing to do with the pale fabric hanging from the maid’s hands. The ladyservant laid the dress across the mattress, smoothing out the brocade before turning to tidy up a mess that was not there.

Yeyette took a few more bites, setting aside a half-eaten piece of melon as she found her hunger wasting away. All she could manage was to drink the glass of honeymilk before standing to prepare for her doom. She crossed to the bath chamber and entered with silent steps. Within the two nameless servants stood waiting and she stripped away her night gown and slipped into the steaming water of the tub.

The maid with the thick orange hair scrubbed her back for her and the other rinsed her hair with rose water. She would not be taking such baths every day. She had been perfectly fine her whole life washing herself and she had preferred her privacy. Yeyette did not linger in the water for long despite its alluring warmth.

A towel was wrapped around her and she wrung the excess water from her dark hair back into the tub. She swept into the bed chamber and sat at the hand-carved vanity, looking at her grim reflection in the oval mirror. Her eyes were dark with fatigue and her hair already returning to its hectic curls and she could see why Thranduil had looked at her so. 

She was not a princess, not truly. Not like her sister, Analee, who had inherited their mother’s honey locks and luminous eyes. If only she were here now to reassure Yeyette, to share in her grief for the loss of their father and now for the loss of her former life. She would have to make it through without her, to bear the pain with a false smile until it seeped away enough to cope.

Enid brought another towel and began to roughly rub Yeyette’s thick tresses until they were no longer dripping though her hair remained damp. Next the three elves began to braid her hair though they only manage two thick braids before giving up. She could see the frustration in their faces and Enid swatted away the others as she pinned the hair in a low bun. The princess would have done little better as even she had never been able to tame the wild locks.

Then the orange-haired maid approached with a powder brush but missed Yeyette’s cheek as she pushed the bristles away, “No, no make-up. My husband will have to accept me as I am. He’ll soon find out what I truly look like, anyhow.”

The two anonymous maids looked at each other and shrugged, setting aside the pots of cosmetics they had fished out of a small wooden chest. Yeyette sighed with a final look at herself and rose from her seat, turning to Enid who stood silent and patient behind her. “I should get dressed,” She announced, saying the words more for her own guidance than her ladyservant, “I cannot be married in a bath towel.”

Enid brought her a set of lacy smallclothes and the princess frowned as she pulled them on. She realized what this marriage would lead to but it did not mean she was eager for it. Next she rolled the thinly woven stocking up her legs, securing them with a pare of emerald encrusted garters her mother had forced upon her as a gift. 

Yeyette held out her arms and let the maids wrap her in the peridot gown, securing the brocade tightly around her. A gold belt was hung low on her hips, decorated with pale gems which matched the shade of her dress. Enid secured a gilt necklace around her neck, a flawless droplet of amethyst rested just above the v of her neckline. Then she pushed her feet into a pair of heeled slippers made of a dark green leather and with flecks of jade sewn into a pattern of flowers.

She inhaled deeply, the stiff fabric of her gown tightening around her chest and pushed her arms back to loosen her stiff shoulders. Turning to the three maids, she gave a half-smile and forced her voice through her throat, “Thank you. How much time do we have?”

“Enough for you to finish your breakfast,” Enid asserted. She had a pointed-face which would make her appear meek but her voice was sharp as glass, “You will need it if you are to make it through the day. Try not to mess your gown though. We haven’t another.”

Yeyette clamped her lips nervously, accepting the ladyservant’s advice graciously though she was not sure she could follow it. Her stomach was revolting and her nerves flurried. She was not certain even that she would be able to sit in one place for more than a minute or two. Enid dismissed the other servants and the princess took a grape between her fingers, mushing it slowly as she watched the juice drip out onto the golden platter. She felt like the grape. Like she was being crushed beneath the world and there was nothing she could do to save herself.

The princess stood behind a thick curtain, her mother held the crook of her elbow silently as they listened to the buzz of voices which came from the hall beyond. Despite her best efforts, Yeyette had not heard a single word Queen Thea had offered to comfort her. Instead she had found herself repeatedly hugging her mother and muttering sombre words of loss and love.

A harp was strummed artfully and could be heard through the drone of wedding guests. A wreath of pale summer rose had been placed along Yeyette’s hairline and she felt every bit the fool. She would never had chosen such an ornament, she would rather go unadorned in her tunic and breeches than wear brocade and petals.

The music stopped suddenly and changed, a harmonious tune the princess recognized and she cringed against her mother. Queen Thea prodded her, hooking an arm through hers as she turned her and led her out from behind the curtain. She pulled her to the set of tall double doors which opened to the luminous great hall and they stopped in the archway.

Wedding guests turned to see the foreign princess for the first time and Yeyette swallowed back the boil of fear and spite within her. She let Queen Thea guide her, beginning her path down the aisle as her feet kept time with her mother’s. The elves around her were a blur of satins and silks and she kept her eyes forward, looking to platform where she would take her vows.

The prince, Legolas, stood waiting for her. His hair was as pale as his father’s though he was slightly shorter and he had the same effortless grace. He wore a brocade jacket of rustic gold and dark pants, a chain of white gold formed a v down his chest and belt of matching rings wrapped his waist. His pale leather boots laced up to his knees and he did not so much as look at Yeyette as she approached.

As she neared the steps which led up to the platform, she saw Thranduil standing behind his son. He wore a silver high-collared robe with a teal lining and his fingers were adorned with thick rings of rubies, emeralds, and sapphires. Unlike his son, he watched her as she walked the aisle though his face was just as blank as the prince’s. Was he regretting the match already?

Yeyette nearly tripped upon the first step but her mother held her upright, saving her from complete humiliation. She reached the top of the platform and Queen Thea led her to the prince, turning her to give her one last hug. “I love you, Yeyette.” She whispered before she released her daughter and stepped back to take her place.

The princess turned to face the prince, an elven officiate stood at the head of the platform. Legolas showed no emotion, his eyes met hers for a brief moment before flicking away to look over her head. Yeyette figured he was as eager for this marriage as she, though it did not make his obvious distaste any easier. She clasped her hands before her as the officiate began to speak and waited silently to say the words that would resign her to her fate.


	3. An Understanding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeyette and her newlywed husband adjust to their union as she says a goodbye.

An arm was looped through Yeyette’s but it was not so comforting as her mother’s. Rather it was stiff and its owner was cold and silent. Legolas led his new wife along a branched corridor of her new home though she felt like an imposter. They were strangers and yet they were contracted to each other, to spend their lives together for eternity.

They stopped before a set of double doors, Sindarin runes were set into the façade, and the handles curled out in bows of gold. Legolas released Yeyette’s arm and wordlessly pulled open the doors, waiting for her to step through before following her in and closing the doors behind him. The sound of them clicking shut nearly made her jump and the prince’s light footsteps sounded like boulders falling around her.

The chamber was glowing with the light of a dozen lamps and white petals were strewn along the bed and floor. Yeyette stared at them vacantly as her husband crushed them beneath his boots carelessly. She had expected him to head for the bed but instead he sat in a cushioned arm chair and sprawled his long legs out before him, hanging his head back with fatigue.

“My prince,” She slowly stepped inside, stopping beside the twin chair which sat across from him, “Is there something the matter?”

“No, not at all,” He raised his head, his voice weary, “I am merely tired. You must be as well. Why don’t you sit?”

“Sit?” She looked to the chair nervously. He had not said much to her throughout the day and now he seemed reluctant to fulfill his husbandly duties. It set in her a sense of relief for she was not looking forward to being bedded by a stranger, but it also inspired dread within her. _Was she so repulsive to him?_

“Please,” He gestured for her to take the seat, “I think it best that we talk…before we go any further.”

“Not to pressure you,” Yeyette said as she lowered herself, the brocade once more straining against her chest, “But we are husband and wife now. There is little pretense left to us.”

“I know,” His voice was filled with the same misery that she had hidden throughout the day, “But we also both know what this is. Neither of us desired this marriage.”

“My prince, I–”

“My name is Legolas, you may forego such fanciful titles,” He pushed back his pale hair and sighed, “And I shall not call you by any other name but Yeyette. As you said, we are married now and little pretense remains.”

The princess clasped her lips and nodded. She waited for him to continue as she could see the words brewing within him. He had been impatient to say them for quite a time, she knew, and it was better they were said now.

“As I said, we have both agreed to this marriage for reasons other than love. This is politics,” He explained as he leaned forward, his elbow on his knees, “I would, at least, that we begin this union on that acknowledgement. If we do, it will be easier for the both of us.”

“Alright,” Yeyette’s voice was quiet though she could respect his honesty, “I cannot say that you are wrong.”

“Very well,” Legolas accepted, the muscles in his jaw tightening, “So let us begin. I have agreed to this marriage because I seek my father’s forgiveness. I made a fool of myself for another elf and she has since been exiled. I know it is not what a newlywed wife would like to hear but it is better you know it now.”

“Oh,” Yeyette fiddled with the stiff cuff of her sleeve as she nodded, “Then I suppose it is my turn?” He merely stared back and so she continued, “My father perished from the winter plague and left my brother to rebuild our kingdom from little more than dirt and snow. If I did not go through with this marriage, we all would have been doomed.”

The prince nodded and remained silent, crossing one long leg over the other. Yeyette looked behind him through the small arched window beside the bed, the setting sun sending an orange glow through the curtains. Another sigh slipped from Legolas and he shifted in his chair, causing the wood to strain audibly.

“Why don’t you sleep?” He offered the princess as she began to fall into her own thoughts, “We do not need to pretend among ourselves. We only need make others believe that this marriage is legitimate.” Yeyette looked at him, his silver eyes stared dully back, “We are strangers yet. Let us grow as friends before we play at husband and wife.”

“Well then,” Yeyette stood awkwardly, her movements slow and hindered by her own nerves, “I think I shall take you up on the offer of sleep. And we can only try to be friends, if nothing else.”

She turned as he leaned heavily upon the arm of the chair, his pale eyes staring at the wall. He looked lost as if he had descended into another world. Yeyette felt her stomach sink further. _Was she such a disappointment? Had he expected a prettier wife? Or one more demure?_ She knew he would never look at her as her father had her mother but she had at least hoped he could do so with more than dread. She would have to accept his offer; she would need a friend in such a foreign place.

Yeyette rose early the next day, a warmth radiated from beside her. She looked over as she sat up, her husband slumbering silently next to her. He was not disturbed as she hung her legs over the side and pushed herself to her feet with the clumsiness of sleep. He remained as he was, flat on his back, his pristine features smooth with the calm of the dream world beyond.

She crossed the woven carpet and slumped into the carved chair before the vanity, looking at her tired reflection. She did not look like a newlywed wife, she looked like an angry spinster. She frowned and pushed back the mess of tangled curls around her face. Her mother was leaving today and she would be left alone. She had already lost her father and now she was to lose her mother too. It made her heart ache and yet she knew she could not let it show.

She did not want to be there when her husband woke but she also did not want to give up so easily. All they had to do was be friend, that was what he had said. But he did wake up, quietly. He resumed the chair he had sat in the evening before, looking into the dead hearth. It was too warm in Mirkwood for fires and it made Yeyette miss the crackle of her fireplace back in the Frost Meadows.

Enid arrived with breakfast and a male servant followed her, Legolas’ privy servant, who went about his work without a single order from the prince. Yeyette’s husband shared the breakfast platter with her as she sat across from him before retiring to the adjoined bath chamber.

“Your mother will be off soon,” He said as he neared the door, his servant at his heels, “I suppose you’d like to say farewell.”

“Thank you,” Yeyette replied with a meek smile but he did not see it as he turned and passed into the bath chamber. The door closed behind him and the princess frowned as Enid returned and stood silently at her shoulder. “What am I to do?”

“My lady?” Her lady servant wondered aloud.

“My husband, he can barely look at me,” She did not know why she was speaking her thoughts to the maid, perhaps it was because she missed Lena. Her former ladyservant had known even her deepest troubles. “I think I have disappointed him…Enid, please, do not tell anyone I have said so.”

“Never, my lady,” She slowly knelt beside Yeyette’s chair and took her hand softly, the princess’ eyes rising to meet the ladyservant’s, “It is my duty to serve you. I will always keep your secrets.”

“You are too kind,” Yeyette squeezed her hand, her frown wavering as a futile smile tried to break through, “You are likely disappointed, too.”

“Not at all, my father told me stories of the Frost Meadows often,” Enid’s voice had lost it stiffness and for the first, Yeyette could here a hint of her true being, “He served there, you know? He was a mercenary. Any princess from the Meadows should be a welcome sight.”

“Your father was a soldier in the Meadows?” The princess grinned without thinking, her own father had been more warrior than king, “The Second Ice War?”

“The very one,” Enid smiled and for a moment the two women shared a look of nostalgia, “Marriage is hard, my lady. I know it well. My own husband was chosen by my father. A fellow soldier. I could not stand him at first, I hated him. The way he spoke so gruffly and that he snored so loudly. But now I love him for those things. He has taken care of me and treats me well. The prince will do the same, he is a good elf with a big heart.”

“You are the one with the big heart, Enid,” Yeyette pressed her hand tightly before releasing it, “Rise and fetch me a basin of water. I will bathe in the evening. I can forego the tub for the sake of seeing my mother off.”

Enid nodded, her former veneer returning as she turned and scurried to the door, pulling it open swiftly and slipping into the hall. Yeyette stood and watched the door for a long time, standing unmoving as her troubled thoughts washed over her. If she could not make friends with the prince, at least she had her maid.

The carriage waited before the doors of the Mirkwood palace, the baggage train lined up at its tail. Yeyette descended the steps in her grey gown, a fitting garment for the dour occasion. As she saw her mother standing at the foot of the stairs, she wished the sun was not so bright above. This day had no right to be pleasant. It should be snowing or at least raining and the sky should be as grim as her mood.

The princess stopped at the bottom before her mother and took her hands desperately. Only then as she looked into Queen Thea’s jade eyes did she remember her husband. He was still making his way down the steps, his footfalls as measured as ever. Yeyette had not realized how quickly she had stumbled towards her mother and was sure she only seemed even more foolish for it.

“Mother,” She looked back to Thea, “Must you leave so soon?”

“I must,” The queen replied glumly, squeezing her daughter’s hands, “You know I must. I have seen you married and now I must return and see the Meadows restored.”

“I know, I know,” Yeyette closed her eyes forlornly before snapping them open desperately, “Tell Ciaran I love him and Lena that I miss her.”

“I will, of course I will, dear,” Her mother’s voice was as weak as it was when she spoke of her dead husband, “Don’t be sad. You have yourself a kind husband,” She looked to Legolas who had come to stand beside his wife, “And you will learn to love this kingdom. Besides, how could you miss the dreadful Niqeth snows here?”

“I love you, Mother,” Yeyette pulled her mother into an embrace, tossing aside all pretence of her status, “I’ll write you every day.”

“Yeyette, I love you, too,” Her mother parted reluctantly, “But make sure to write your sister, too. Her child will be born soon and she is closer than us. She will surely travel once the babe has come.”

“I will,” The princess vowed and her mother removed her hands from hers, turning then to her son-in-law.

“I am honoured to have you as my daughter’s husband,” Thea’s civility never failed, even when she was facing a difficult task, “Treat her well, my prince.”

“I will,” Legolas bent, though not far, and pecked the queen’s cheek in a formal manner, “Travel safe, mother.”

Yeyette swallowed back her sadness and was suddenly filled with a dull anger. He had no right to call Thea his mother. He may be bound to her through contract but it could not promise him such a privilege. Legolas could barely look his wife in the eye and yet he could speak so sweetly to her mother and gift her with such tender gestures. The princess stepped back and waited for the prince to finish his lies, biting her tongue until she thought it would bleed.

Legolas retreated to stand by his wife’s side and they watched as his father replaced him. The king moved lightly towards the queen and kissed her hand the same way he had done days before. He bowed to her and spoke gentle words of goodbye. Yeyette heard her name pass his lips but she could not hear for the buzzing in her ears.

“Farewell,” Her mother announced once more, this one with a tone of finality, “I should like to return to Mirkwood one day. Until then.”

Thea graced her daughter with another rueful look before she gathered her skirts and turned back to the grand carriage. The attendant pulled down the steps and the clatter nearly made Yeyette jump in her skin. Her mother climbed slowly and yet too quickly, the door closing her in with a deafening click.

The queen pulled back the curtain as the driver took his seat at the front and waved to her daughter as the vehicle leapt into motion. The wooden wheels threw up pebbles and dust and soon a cloud formed before them as the carriage disappeared behind it. Yeyette could barely spot the tail end as it rode up the curved bridge and towards the forest. She looked down at her hands and turned away, unable to watch further. Her husband remained numbly silent at her side and did not so much as offer a courteous word of comfort. She would have to grow accustomed to it, she had faced greater foes than indifference.


	4. Honeymoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The royal couple’s honeymoon is cut short as the king welcomes Yeyette to her new home.

Yeyette retired almost immediately after her mother’s carriage had disappeared. She had climbed the steps blindly with a placid look upon her face and some forgotten words to her husband. Legolas had let her go without protest and why would he not have? He seemed to have little care for his new wife despite his efforts to make nice.

She had found her chamber by fortune as she still struggled to keep her bearings in the labyrinth of the Mirkwood palace. She pushed through one of the heavy double doors and closed it without a thought before flopping into the cushioned-chair before the hearth. She closed her eyes and fought back the tears which threatened.

Her eyes felt as if they were filled with thorns but she would not allow herself to weep. She could see her mother’s green irises staring back at her under her eyelids and she smiled sombrely. Then Queen Thea’s eyes darkened to a deep gold, bigger and rounder, and she was staring into her father’s eyes… _or were they her own?_

How she missed him. She was so lost now that he was gone and she could not see a way back or onward. At least in the Meadows, she could feel close to his memory but here, there was nothing of him. It was only her. Slowly, the visions faded away and her breath slowed, deepening until she sank into a trance-like sleep. 

Yeyette was woken hours later as the light of the afternoon streamed in through the rounded window facing her. The sun was a ball of melted amber through the glass and the chamber dim as no lanterns had been lit. The sound of the door closing had roused her though she did not bother to see who had entered. She did not need to as they were soon beside her, standing tentatively, remaining silent a moment before they spoke.

“Yeyette,” Legolas’ voice was tender, she was surprised to here it anything less than formal, “I have brought you these,” He held out a stack of books, each spine a different shade of gold, faded with time and use, “Your mother, the queen, she told me yesterday at the wedding. She said you liked to read…though I could only guess at what.”

“She did?” Yeyette sat up, her figure had slipped halfway out of the chair in her slumber, “And you—Why have you done this?”

“Because you are my wife now,” He placed the books on the table between the chairs as he spoke in a subdued tone, “And I should at least start acting like I am your husband, even if our marriage little more than a veil.”

“Thank you,” She reached out and took the small novel which capped the pile. Its cover held the imprints of fingers and the pale text was faded; _Sparrows in the Light._

“I am sorry your mother left so soon,” Legolas took the other chair, sitting languidly as he let his legs stretch indolently before him, “I know it must not be easy, but I was being true. I do want us to be friends, we should be that at the very least. I had been told that you were more warrior than princess, as many Niqeth are.”

“And you, a Mirkwoodian,” Yeyette mused as she cradled the book in her lap, “You are more graceful. Diplomats like the Rivendell elves. I cannot say my people are as tactful.”

“Mirkwood fights when it needs to,” The prince pushed back his pale hair, “And we do it well. Perhaps, when you are more inclined to, I could show you. I hear you handle a sword quite deftly.”

“And you a bow,” The princess let her mouth go crooked but a smile would not rise, “I am afraid an archer and a swordsbearer are not well-matched.”

“It wouldn’t be a true battle,” He assured her, his lithe fingers twitching atop his knee, “But we should at least try to know each other before we let it go so far. We have an eternity before us and time is even more powerful than steel.”

“Do you read?” Yeyette asked, hoping that she could soften the elf.

“At times,” He straightened the belt of his jacket and crossed his legs, “Not as much as I once did. I haven’t the time for it anymore. My father wants me to start behaving like a prince, hence why I’ve found myself…married.”

“Oh,” She bristled slightly at his last remark and frowned once more. If she kept doing so, she would find herself aging before her mother, “Well…” She sighed and dropped the book back atop the pile, “We are more alike than you thought then. Both of us trying to act a part for the sake of our families. Both failing miserably.”

“Sorry, I have not meant to be so…unkind to you,” His own lips turned down for a moment but his face showed as little as ever, “It’s just…I think you know how difficult this is.”

“We’re strangers, I understand,” Yeyette bit back the resent, she had to remember what her mother had told her. _Find something to love in him_. “Neither of us desired this,” She set her arms stiffly on those of the chair, “We might as well admit it rather than let it sour the air so.”

A silence seeped into the room, surrounding them as their eyes eluded each other. Yeyette swallowed back her pride and told herself not to surrender to her grief. She had never expected it to be easy but she was not prepared to feel so alone.

“I think I should take you up on that offer,” She kept her voice steady and unemotional, “We should spar. You don’t know a person until you see them wield steel.”

“Did your father tell you that?”

“Yes,” Yeyette tilted her head curiously, suddenly she saw her father’s face again, “Why do you ask?”

“He said the same to me when I was an elfling,” His words trapped the breath in her chest, “He stopped here on his way south. He and my father did not get on very well but I remember him as more kindly than my own.”

“You met him?” She asked, the frown ebbing from her lips.

“Once, I doubt I knew him truly,” Legolas shrugged and sent her an empathetic look, “You’ll have to tell me about him some day. I always imagined he was great king.”

“He was. More than you know,” Yeyette sat back, the tension leaving her body as they wordlessly settled their treaty. It would have to do, this fragile agreement, for now.

“I have unfortunate news,” Legolas announced as he returned later in the evening after leaving Yeyette to her reading, “I only seem to add more burdens to your plight.”

“What is it?” The princess was slowly feeling more comfortable in the cushioned chair and the chamber seemed slightly less foreign.

“We must dine with my father this evening,” He sighed and stood before Yeyette’s chair, “I had tried to postpone it for the morrow but…he is insistent and he claims that he needs acquaint himself with his new daughter-in-law.”

“He… _does_?” She could not help but sound surprised, “I thought…alright.” She closed her book and stood.

“You thought what?” He asked curiously as she stepped past him and sat at her vanity.  
“I don’t know,” She replied evasively as she forced the bristles of her brush through her curls. “Perhaps he was disappointed with me. That he had assumed I would look like my mother or my sister.”

“My father is stern and not very friendly,” Legolas said as he sat at the end of the bed across from Yeyette, “But I do not think him so shallow. He has always been more of a politician, as it were. You could be utterly deformed and I doubt he would care as long as he got his dues.”

“Mmm,” She accepted with a grumble as she set her brush back on the desk, avoiding the mirror with her eyes. It was far from a compliment and only assured her that he found her little more than plain himself, “Well, as long as someone is happy.”

“You should be flattered, he rarely wants to dine with me of late,” The prince’s voice was laced with venom, “He is not one to go out of his way for others. He is trying which is more than I ever got from him.”

“Well, he is the king,” Yeyette stood and tied her hair in a low ponytail. There was not much she could do with the wild mane but it was better than leaving it loose, “Besides, I know I can’t hide in here for the rest of my life.”

“No, but I would hide from him if I could,” Legolas watched her patiently as she pulled on a pair of silk slippers and straightened her grey gown, “He is my father, though, and I must appease him.”

“You’re making me anxious,” She said as he held out his arm in a courtly manner and she took it kindly, “Should I ready myself for a battle?”

“Not just yet,” It was a jest and it caught the princess entirely off-balance as it was followed by a small choke which could have been a chuckle, “But should this dinner go poorly, you may be best to travel with your sword from now on.”

She allowed herself the smallest of smirks as the prince led her to the doors and guided her along the branched corridors. She let herself believe, for the moment, that she may have imagined things to be worse than they truly were. One day at a time, she told herself, and all would be well. This dinner was nothing. She would eat and speak kindly with the king and be done and onto another day.

Legolas stopped her before a pair of towering doors of twisted gold and white birch. An attendant stood to each side and lifted the handles silently, pushing the doors inward to reveal a glowing hall on the other side. Within, was a long golden table with a crystal top and at the head sat the silver king of Mirkwood. Thranduil watched with placid eyes as his son escorted his new wife to a birch chair.

Yeyette accepted the seat offered by Legolas and he took his own on the other side of her. It was not any easy position as she now sat between two elves who seemed to have little regard for each other despite the blood they shared. Both appeared to forget her presence for a moment as they met each other’s eyes with unspoken challenge and the princess waited for either to break the silence. 

“Princess Yeyette,” Thranduil’s deep voice had her gripping the edge of the table, “I am so pleased you and my son could join me tonight.”

“Oh?” She did not mean to sound so lost but he had spoken in much gentler tone than she had prepared herself for, “Well, I cannot see any reason we wouldn’t. I should like to get acquainted with this kingdom before long seeing as it is my new home.”

“And we only want to make it feel as such,” Thranduil returned lightly and reached for the tall bottle of golden wine, “Would you like some wine, my lady?”

“Um,” She glanced over at her husband who was staring dully at his plate, “Of course. Husband, would you care for some as well?”

“Why not?” He pushed his goblet towards his father with two fingers, “My family has always been known for its unquenchable thirst.”

“Legolas,” Thranduil slithered as he filled Yeyette’s glass and then his son’s, “No one is forcing you to partake. Besides, you should be celebrating. You’ve a new wife and she does deserve some appreciation. She has travelled all the way from the Frost Meadows to wed you.”

“I know it well,” Legolas looked at his father once more, spite filled his pale eyes, “And I appreciate her well.” His hand rested lightly on Yeyette’s and she did her best to swallow back her surprise. She realised she would need to take her part in this game between king and prince though she knew it was a dangerous one, “I needn’t lessons from you in how to treat my wife.”

“It was not intended as such,” Thranduil’s voice lightened, draining of all tension as he leaned back in his seat, “I am only trying to welcome our new princess. I know it must be a great change for her here in Mirkwood. Ah, here we are.”

The king looked to the doors as servants streamed in with platters and the three royals waited quietly and patiently as they were placed upon the table. Golden lids were removed and great mounds of food were revealed, sending a savoury medley through the air. Yeyette’s mouth watered as she had forgotten her own hunger amid her misery and suddenly it fell upon her like a scavenger to carrion.

“I know the Niqeth do not share our tame appetites,” Thranduil began as he took the princess’ plate and began to plod it with food, “But I think you should enjoy our offerings nonetheless,” He replaced it before her and took up his own as he continued to speak, “We are not hunters here and do not partake in meat, you see? Though I know that is not the case in the Meadows. When I was last there, your father, King Bernard, tried to tempt me into a hunt but I simply could not.”

Yeyette’s shoulders rose slightly as she tried to find his meaning. _Was it an insult? Should she be bristling and baring her teeth in offense?_ She merely swallowed and picked up her fork, poking listlessly at a potato, “I understand. I have often been told the Niqeth are regarded as little more than barbarians among the softer ilk of our species.”

“I meant no such thing,” The king’s lips curved with amusement as she met his pale eyes with her lustrous ones, “I am only trying to help you get to know our customs. Should you wish to hunt, you are more than welcome to do so in the forest.”

“Thank you,” She accepted his explanation though not without a twinge of resent, “I shall consider it.” She reached out to take her glass and sipped from it deeply before setting it back, “So, in your visit to the Meadows, was there anything you did enjoy? I know the realm is rough but I always treasured the beauty of the snows.”

“The snows, I should agree, were breathtaking,” He gulped his own wine between words, “And I did find it to be quite the intriguing little kingdom. I had never ridden a sleigh pulled by wolves before.”

“Yes, well they are difficult to train,” Yeyette could not but let herself smile as flashes of her childhood returned to her, “But they are loyal and well able to handle the cold.”

“I am afraid any wolves you find around here are utterly wild,” The king placed his empty glass beside his plate, “Your father did not mind so much when he visited years ago. He said any wolf is tamed at the hands of the Niqeth.”

“Yes, well, my father was a stubborn man,” She could picture in her head how utterly different the two kings must have seemed to each other, “He lost a finger to one of the beasts but he brushed it off as nothing more than a love bite.”

“Your kind have thick hides,” Thranduil let his grin grow and his eyes filled with unreadable thoughts as he focused more intently on the princess. Suddenly, they flicked away and settled on the third of their small party, “I am afraid, however, I have some bad news.”

“Which would be?” Legolas’ voice was hard as he shifted in his chair and Yeyette clamped her lips to brace for another confrontation.

“Only a temporary disturbance, I promise,” His voice was kind but laced with calculation, “My son is a prince and he has duties to his kingdom.”

“Where are you sending me _now_?” Legolas demanded as he leaned an elbow on the table.

“In a week,” The king explained in a placating manner, “I would let you enjoy your marriage for a few days first and you would be more than welcome to bring your new wife along.”

“I do not need your permission to do so,” The prince growled darkly, “Now tell me before I begin to doze.”

“The dwarves at Erebor have accepted our terms at last, all it requires is a last touch of diplomacy,” Thranduil’s lips remained curved in a smirk, “You should not be very long and as I recall, the dwarves prefer you to me.”

“They would,” The prince mumbled wryly, “I’ll go on my own. It will be quicker. Besides, Yeyette needs to adjust to Mirkwood before she goes travelling. Erebor is far and the road rough. I would not tax her more than needed…if that is preferable to her, of course.”

“I would not slow down your progress,” Yeyette looked to her husband. She could sense in his tone that he did not wish her to go with him and perhaps it was for the best. A little time for both of them to adjust to the idea of their marriage, “I am more than content to remain and wait for my husband. I have travelled this far, I can sit and bide my time a little longer.”

“So it is settled,” Thranduil announced as the prince and princess caught each other’s eyes for a moment. Each was trying to figure out the other and just as they had found a balance, it seemed to be slowly tipping, “Legolas shall be back before you know it, my lady,” Yeyette turned back as Thranduil poured himself more wine, “And it will give you a chance to explore. There is much to be discovered in Mirkwood.”


	5. Revelation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeyette receives a gift and some unwelcome news.

Yeyette sat staring out one of the arched windows of her chamber. She had pushed open the glass on its iron hinges and the sweet summer air had filled the stagnant space. Her husband had left hours ago and she had not realized until she had walked the corridors back to their shared rooms that she may actually miss him. In the week they had spent together as a wedded couple, they had grown used to each other. It was far from love but close to companionship.

A knock came at the door and jolted the princess from her thoughts. She stood from the bench and called for whoever it was to enter. Enid opened the door from the other side but Yeyette did not expect the elf who followed. His hair was bright orange and pulled back into the tight topknot typical of Niqeth warriors. He wore the arms of her kingdom, crossed swords with icicles along the blades 

“Oh, hello?” Yeyette greeted and looked to her ladyservant, “A messenger?”

“My princess,” The bright-haired elf bowed to her, a leather package held under his arm, “Your brother, King Ciaran, has sent me.”

“You have travelled far,” She mused as she took in the square-faced messenger, “I should offer you chamber and food until the morrow so that you may rest your horse.”

“Thank you, princess,” He nodded and pulled forth the leather bag, “I should first deliver you this. Your brother sends his congratulations on your marriage.”

“Thank you, sir,” She took the bundle in her hands and smiled, “Return to me in the morning before you go and I shall send my response with you.”

“My princess,” He accepted and bowed once more, his high pony-tail swaying as he did. He turned on his heel and Enid opened the door for him with a curious look before trailing after him. Doubtless, the messenger would become lost without her guidance though he seemed to have little regard for the possibility.

Yeyette returned to the bench, sitting sideways as she placed the leather package before her and slowly untied the straps. The flap opened easily and she pulled forth a roll of fabric, hard and heavy. She unwound it across the bench and revealed a line of handles carved into the shape of wolf heads. She pulled one forth, slender and well-balanced, and admired it in the sunlight streaming in.

She smiled and flipped the blade in her hand. _Why had she not dug her sword from its chest yet?_ Perhaps, she was afraid it would remind her too much of home. She rolled the daggers up and stood once more, stretching her legs beneath her skirts. She hated gowns and yet that was all Enid ever set out for her. She would have to speak with the ladyservant.

Yeyette crossed to the tall oaken wardrobe and fished out a pair of pale brown pants and a forest green hunting tunic. She stripped quickly, donning her new outfit, a sense of invigoration filled her. It was as if she had been reborn and yet returned to a long forgotten past. It had not been so long since she had worn the clothes, it only felt an eternity.

She laced up her tall leather boots and buckled her matching belt before searching for the steel she had hidden at the bottom of a chest. She dug deep and pulled forth the sheathed blade, the handle wrought with silver and garnet. She hooked it to her belt and grabbed the thick colt brown cloak hanging among the folds of the wardrobe. She wrapped it around her shoulders and retrieved the collection of daggers from the bench.

She strode eagerly out the doors and along the twisted corridors of the palace. This was the first she had felt anything close to happy in Mirkwood. She had a mission, a simple one, and it filled her with purpose. After getting lost in a wing she had not been before, Yeyette finally reached the doors of the palace and bravely scurried out into the afternoon sun.

She could smell the leaves of the trees even before she neared the forest and the melody of birds buzzed all around. Her feet barely made noise as she crossed the threshold of trees and soon the sun was hidden by the leaves above. Shadows of the swaying branches waved across her path and the dry dirt dusted up around her. 

She came upon a broad clearing, almost a circle, where a dead tree spanned the far border. Sun illuminated the treeline in yellow rays and the dim of the forest receded. Here she felt free and inhaled the scents of nature. It was not the brisk breath of snow she was used to but it was splendid nonetheless. It filled her with warmth and wrapped her in hope.

She walked across to the overturned tree and spread out her daggers, fingering each handle before drawing one forth. They were made for throwing and it had been ages since she had a good practice at it. Her first throw strayed, barely catching the tree she had chosen as her target. The next struck true though and was followed by the other six which chipped away at the bark until a large chuck fell free.

She crossed to the large oak and plucked out each knife with a grunt. Her hands were full of metal and she pressed them flat against her chest to keep them from slipping. She sat on the tree where she had left the fabric case and began to slip each one into its pocket with care. When all eight daggers were in place, she left the roll open, admiring the handles as they shone in sunlight. She did not noticed when her lips curved into an unbidden smile.

“Those are nice,” A deep voice broke the princess’ vigil over her knives and she looked up to the speaker. Thranduil neared and looked down at the silver wolf heads, “Well forged.”

“My king, what are you doing here?” She asked, her smile falling away as she was suddenly embarrassed that he had discovered her there.

“May I sit?” He gestured to the space on the other side of her knife case and she nodded her ascent, “Thank you,” He lowered himself, his pale blue robe as luminescent as the silver of the blades, “If I am being honest, I followed you here.”

“Why?” She could not withhold the question as it rose.

“You looked like you were up to something,” He looked at her, silver eyes burning, “Nothing unseemly, of course. I suppose my curiosity got the best of me.”

“I was only playing with knives,” She kidded nervously and pulled the case onto her lap, rolling it tightly before tying it closed, “Don’t worry. I haven’t slayed any of your deer.”

“You may do as you wish,” He allowed and crossed his legs, “Do you miss my son or are you happy to have a break from him?”

“What? I don’t–” She sputtered, “He is my husband. Of course I miss him.”

“You’ve known each other a week, what do you know of him to miss?” His eyes bore into her but showed no malice, “My apologies, Princess, I should not meddle so.”

“No, it’s fine,” She stood as she felt a tension rising and her voice turned to frost, “You know him much better than me, but I would never do anything to disservice your son. I have made a vow.”

“I am not concerned with you,” He remained seated, his eyes fixed upon Yeyette.  
“What do you mean?”

“I am afraid I am the one who has done the disservice,” His lip twitched as she fidgeted before him, “I only…think you deserve a warning.”

“About what?” Yeyette bit her lip as the king collected his response.

“My son, you may not know, but he was in love with another, but she did not return his feelings,” The king sighed darkly, “She left and he almost did the same. Since, he has been reckless. There is another though not unrequited as the one before. I should have sent her away before you arrived.”

“What are you saying?” The princess’ blood had frozen and her heart had dulled to a feint beat. She clung desperately to the ice within, hoping it would shield her from the king’s answer.

“I did not intend for it but this other, she has accompanied him to Erebor against my wishes,” His mouth was straight and grim, his eyes piteous, “I am sure you can surmise what that would entail.”

“Why are you telling me this?” She gripped the knives tightly against her chest. She was nearly tempted to draw one of the daggers from the case.

“Because you deserve to know,” He stood slowly, “You do not deserve to be so ignorantly mocked. And, I fear, I have put you in such a position. I betrothed my son to you but did nothing to curtail his misbehaviour. I have drawn you into a marriage which so soon had proven false.”

“You’re lying,” She did not know why she was upset, she had never thought the prince would truly love her but she had expected honesty. Honour, even.

“Perhaps,” The king relented as he stepped towards her and she backed away, “But you’ve heard the words nonetheless. It is up to you whether you believe them or not.”

“He is your son and you would betray him?” She asked incredulous.

“He has betrayed me, many times,” He said the words without emotion as if it were something he had forced himself to be numb to, “And now, he does the same to whoever he pleases.”

“I appreciate your concern, my king,” Yeyette inhaled, hiding the tingle which rose up the back of her neck. The ice was slowly cracking. “But I do not think it any of your business. I must return to the palace.”

“As you will,” He allowed and retreated back to the log, sitting with a vacant stare as he watched her turn away, “I am sorry, Yeyette.”

She shrugged off the apology as she walked away and ignored the weight of his eyes upon her back. She passed back into the trees, shielded from his gaze, and was tempted to run to palace. Instead, she kept her pace steady and pushed away the thoughts filling her head. Thranduil had to be lying. He despised his son and was merely sending another jab at him. It was nothing. And even if it was true, it meant little to her. After all, they both knew the substance of this marriage.

Two weeks came and went as Yeyette waited for the return of her husband. All the while she had avoided her father-in-law, though he had made it difficult. There had been dinners with other nobles in which she remained silent and he sent her looks which she could not discern. _Were his eyes pitiful or boastful?_ From what she had learned thus far, Mirkwood elves were far from trustworthy.

The day of Legolas’ return, she could barely sit still as she could not make herself forget the conversation she had in the forest with his father. If it proved to be true, she could not decide if she would have rather remained ignorant. She had thought of saying something to her husband _but how was she to do so?_ She barely knew him and even if he was guilty, _would he admit it to her?_ She needed to figure it out on her own, one way or the other.

Legolas surprised her as he came through the double doors, his clothing dusty from the road and his eyes showing the slightest signs of fatigue. These Mirkwoodians seemed impervious to life. He dropped his pack beside the door as he spied her reading a book on the window seat and he fell into a cushioned chair with a sigh.

“How was your trip?” She asked, formal but kind.

“Long. Tiresome.” He answered shortly as he sprawled his legs before him, “And how was the city while I was gone? Did you explore?”

“A little,” She admitted, setting the book down beside her legs, “I think I can find my way around the palace now and I don’t get very lost in the forest.”

“Hmm,” He ran his hand through his hair, “And my father? He did not bother you while I was away?”

“What do you mean?” She felt guilt trailing up her spine. _Why did she feel so when she had not done anything?_ It was Thranduil who was deceitful. not her.

“I don’t know, my father is very complicated elf,” He furrowed his brow as he spoke, “He has his ways of getting under one’s skin.”

“No, not at all, he has been nothing but kind to me,” The words came easily but she did not know herself if they were true. She still did not know why he had told her what he had.

“Well,” He pushed himself back to his feet wearily, “I should have a bath drawn and get cleaned up. The last time I saw my father with dirt on my face he looked ready to skin me.”

“I’ll have Enid call for the water,” Yeyette offered as she stood herself, “Why don’t you sit and relax while you wait?” She crossed to the door and opened it just as her ladyservant appeared down the corridor, “It will be a time before the bath is ready.” _Was he so eager to cleanse himself of his amour?_

Legolas listened without much thought, resuming his seat as he sat silently, staring at the wall. Yeyette wondered what thoughts stirred behind his pale eyes and could think of nothing to induce an answer from him. 

The bath was drawn quickly as the princess took up her book once more and her husband remained pensive. _Was he merely tired from the road or was he being elusive?_ It was not as if he had been very talkative before but then, there had been little to worry about. It was frightening how quickly the world could change and with as little as a few words.

The prince rose as the bath was declared full and left her with some mumbled words about being with her shortly. Yeyette hoped he would take his usual time in the bath chamber, though she did not doubt that he would as his words meant little to her now. She should not be so ready to distrust him but something in his manner was all but confirming the suspicions roused by Thranduil.

The heavy door of the bath chamber closed and she waited behind her book a few minutes before disposing of it. As she set it down lightly, she noticed the silent figure still standing by the door. Enid sometimes seemed little more than a part of the wall and it often caught the princess offhand. The ladyservant gave her a quizzical look and Yeyette brought a finger to her lips, motioning her over to her.

Enid crossed the room precariously, an expression of concern painting her features. Yeyette offered her the space beside her on the bench and she sat cautiously. The princess sent a wary look to the bath chamber before turning back to her maid and set a gentle hand upon hers.

“Enid, I need you to be honest with me,” She whispered, afraid that even her thoughts would be heard by her husband.

“About what?” The maid looked into her eyes with worry, her cobalt irises piercing Yeyette’s golden ones.

“The prince,” She answered in a sombre voice, “Have you—ever heard tales of him, you know, with other elves?”

“What do you mean, my lady?” Enid spoke quietly as if to shield the princess.

“I know he had an affair before I came for which he is atoning for through this marriage,” Yeyette explained as she squeezed the ladyservant’s fingers, “But I suspect he has fallen into another. I need you to tell me I am being foolish.”

The maid gave no answer as her eyes wandered to the corner and the princess tensed, tightening her hold on her lone companion. “Enid, please. Tell me.”

“I do not know, my lady,” She finally returned her gaze to Yeyette’s, “It is not my place to say, besides.”

“You will not tell him I asked though?” The princess suddenly felt very guilty for pressuring the earnest maid, “I know I have little right to ask it of you.”

“I am your servant, my lady,” The maid answered as her face cleared, “I am yours. I live to serve you and I will keep your secrets before my own.”

“Truly?” Yeyette was surprised by the devotion in Enid’s voice and the sincerity she could see in her vibrant eyes, “You will not tell?”

“Upon my life, I swear it,” She bowed her head, “I do not serve the prince, I serve you.”

“Then forgive me,” Yeyette released the maid’s hands and stood suddenly, “For what I must do next.”

Silently, Enid watched the princess as she tiptoed to the door where the prince had left his pack. She knelt slowly with a cautious eye towards the bath chamber as she pulled back the flap. Her hand felt around the thick bundle, searching for anything. She paused at the smaller pockets knowing the more precious belongings would be hidden there. She slipped a hand inside an inner pouch, her fingers clasping around a small roll.

She pulled forth a tightly bound scroll, a red ribbon around it, and looked back to her maid with concern. Enid crossed at once and fell to her knees beside the princess. “Please, my lady, I don’t think you should do this.”

“I must,” Yeyette insisted and delicately slid the ribbon from the scroll, unrolling it without a sound.

**_My Dearest,  
In these last days, I have found paradise in your arms…._ **

Yeyette did not need to read further and it took all her strength not to crumple the parchment in her hand. _Why did she care?_ She knew her husband did not love her. Perhaps she had at least hoped for his respect. She looked back to the sheet, her eyes searching the elegant text. The ink was new and the letter could not be more than a few days old. She suspected the prince had not yet read it himself.

**_Serene_** , the letter was signed articulately and the name burned into the princess’ eyes as she closed them. She forced herself to open them and rebound the scroll with the ribbon and replaced it within the pocket she had found it. She closed Legolas’ pack and did her best to leave it as she had found it, sneaking back to her bench and taking up her book once more.

“You were right, Enid,” Yeyette’s voice was sadder than she had intended, “Please, leave me. Though I should hope you will sup with me tonight. I do not feel much like an appearance in the great hall.”

“My lady,” The maid bent her head before slipping out through the door, leaving the princess to hide behind the hardcover.

_Why was Yeyette so hurt?_ It was not so unexpected that the prince would seek another. Even worse she felt guilty for snooping so. She had gone so far as to violate his possessions and _for what_? To dig herself deeper into her misery and self-pity? She was pathetic and foolish and worst of all, she was trapped. Trapped in a marriage which had not even been allowed a chance to blossom and would never do so.


	6. Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeyette worries for her marriage and has an unexpected encounter.

Legolas’ pale blue eyes glowed with the latent irritation which often arose when faced with matters concerning his father. Thranduil had once more invited the prince and princess to dinner and only a day after his son’s return from Erebor. The night before, Legolas had already spoken with his father and since, his mood had been quite grey.

Yeyette sat at her vanity as she so often did, watching her husband in the mirror as she tried to tie her hair back. A low bun would have to do. She should have summoned Enid but she was not eager to wait around. She wanted to eat and be done with the Mirkwood elves. At least in her rooms, she could hide and read and forget her troubles.

She stood, her deep blue skirts unfolding as she did, and crossed to the door before turning back to the prince. “Shall we go, husband?” As she said the word, it burned like the lie it was and she kept her face placid. “The sooner we begin; the sooner we’ll be done.”

“Uh,” He looked at her, tearing his eyes from the wall where he had been staring intently, “Yes.” He stood, shaken from whatever thoughts had kept him so entranced. _Was he thinking of **her**?_ She could not even summon her name in her mind though it hung over her like a sickly pall.

Legolas silently offered his arm to her and she took it, wishing she was not required to entwine herself with an elf who so plainly did not respect her. Her mother had warned her about resent, had she not? But the prince was not honest, so how could she love him for that. He was kind but not without limit. It was more a formality, one which maintained a calculated distance between them.

They arrived at the feast hall before long. This evening, the table was lined with the nobles of Mirkwood, as it so often was. That first night when they had dined with the king had been an occasion, she had found. Since, she had realized it had been a ploy by Thranduil to test his son and her as well.

Legolas led Yeyette to the seats reserved for them near the head of the table. He released her and they sat stiffly. She would never grow used to these gowns, she should have turned them away when her mother had presented them to her. She was a princess; she should have the right to wear a tunic when she wished. The food had already been set out and she figured they were later than she had thought.

“So, Legolas,” Thranduil’s voice cut through the din and both prince and princess looked to the king, “You did not stay long enough to tell me the details of your trip. How was the journey? It must have been swift in such delightful weather.”

“The roads were clear,” Legolas answered stiffly, looking away as he began to plod food to his plate, “The travel was peaceful. Erebor is still being rebuilt but it has its charms…Dwarvish but not entirely revolting.”

“Mmm,” The king squinted at his son as he speared a sprout with his fork, “It was always unusually endearing. You were away longer than I expected.”

“The path may be smooth but it is not without its obstacles,” The prince challenged and Yeyette could not look away as father and son locked eyes, “I made the best time I could.”

“I do not doubt,” Thranduil sat back and his son looked back to his own plate. The king’s eyes found the princess’ and his brow twitched, “You have always been quite the efficient traveller.”

Yeyette inhaled deeply as she steadied herself. The king’s eyes said it all. He knew as well as her what his son had been up to on his journey. He had made more than enough time for business and pleasure. She tore her eyes away with effort and instead examined the platters of food. She was not very hungry; her appetite had not returned since Legolas had. 

Nonetheless, she began to pile vegetables in front of her. All the while, she could feel Thranduil’s eyes watching her every move. Worse, she realized that he knew that she had found the truth out for herself. Even so, his stare was not boastful or pitying, it was something she could not place. It was one of empathy, of remorse. It was a peculiar feeling and yet it gave her comfort and she almost believed that she was not truly alone.

Yeyette’s sword sat across her lap as she stared at the unsheathed blade. The slender groove articulately forged by its creator caught the sunlight in a pool of silver. She could not figure how long she had sat there thus, only that she had pulled out the old weapon when her husband had departed. Legolas had announced that he had princely business to attend to around Mirkwood and with the royal council. 

The princess wondered why she had not been offered a seat the table. As princess of the Frost Meadows, her father had made it essential that his children attended sessions and learned politics. Ciaran may have been his only male heir but King Bernard had never though to disregard his daughters. The Niqeth had lived under many queens before, her own grandmother had wielded power more effectively and longer than any other. _What would her forebear do if her husband had strayed so carelessly?_

 _Let him play at prince,_ Yeyette thought, _he could do no worse at that than he had done as her husband._ She stood and sheathed her sword, searching out her belt among her overwhelming collection of garments. She would have to be rid of at least half of her closet. Perhaps Enid would appreciate some gowns or she could speak with the elven noblewomen, though they had been as yet weary of the princess.

She attached her sword to her belt buckled tightly around her waist, a dark red hunting tunic and brown breeches beneath. She dug out the daggers she had hidden in the bottom of her wardrobe and tucked them under her arm. She had been hesitant to show her husband, perhaps because it allowed her a secret of her own. Besides, she was not beholden to him so long as he chose to be so to her.

The princess pulled a half-cloak over her left shoulder, tied diagonal across her torso. The weather was much warmer than her home and she could not wear her winter clothes in the heat. Her hair was pulled back as tightly as she could get it and her hunting boots laced all the way to her knees. She was not seeking a true hunt; she merely needed to get away. Perhaps the sun would cleanse her mind or at least waken her from her dull trance.

Yeyette trod through the corridors heavily, passing several others as she did though she did not bother to look at them. Despite being married to their prince; she had received less than a warm welcome. Formal words had been delivered at evening dinners and little more. It was the looks which held the truth. Those judging eyes and secretive exchanges when they thought she was not watching. Or listening. She suspected that everyone knew of her husband’s sins and it made it all the worse. More so that she had yet to meet this Serene who had made a fool of her even before she had arrived.

Outside, the sun shone as it always seemed to in the summer kingdom. Thranduil had said that winter did come to Mirkwood but it was hard to imagine the forest smothered in snow. She made for the forest as she had before, her feet guiding her without thought. As she entered the treeline though, she was not sure she would be able to find the same clearing as before. There, an air of peace existed and if she could not find it within the palace walls, she would seek it out among the trees.

The path before her seemed to wind more than it had before and the trees loomed taller overhead. Perhaps it was that the world had turned dark in the last weeks. Even so, the smell of leaves and rustling of unseen creatures filled her with contentment. Thoughts of her husband began to drain from her and were replaced by sight and sound.

Ahead, the trees thinned and the sun beamed down brighter. The warmth touched Yeyette before the light as she neared but was overtaken by a sudden chill. Sitting upon the overturned trunk which crossed the further edge of the clearing was the last person she had thought to meet. 

Thranduil’s silver hair was a curtain of shimmering silk, more vibrant than the subtle green of his robe. A cloak was draped beside him over the tree’s body and his feet were planted in the dirt, though he sat calmly. It was as if he had been waiting for her, that he had known her intentions before her.

“My king,” She greeted him precariously as she stopped just inside the clearing, “I apologize. I hope I have not disturbed you.”

“Not at all, in fact, I have been expecting you,” His gaze settled upon her, his silver eyes like precious gems in the sun, “Please, sit with me.” He placed his hand on the rough bark beside him and watched her patiently.

She walked towards him reluctantly as confusion filled her mind with panic. Why was he here? Why could she not find a moment for herself? Was she so cursed to be hounded by these Mirkwood elves like demons in the netherworld? She wanted to turn and run the other way but instead she obeyed, sitting beside him stiffly, all the while his eyes never left her.

“Or perhaps I have disturbed you?” The king’s voice was gentle, though its timbre as sturdy as ever, “I had not intended to make you unhappy.”

“No, you have not,” She lied though she was not certain if she was truly displeased with his presence, “I suppose I should be grateful for the company, my husband is ever busy. He has left me once more to attend his duties. Council and…” The words died in the air as her head told her she was merely repeating lies she had been too stubborn to see through.

“There is no council today,” Thranduil replied though his voice revealed that he knew it as much as she did, “Though, I expect you have figured that out already.”

Yeyette gave no answer. Instead she stared as a tree across the clearing and blindly set down her bundle of daggers beside her. All desire to throw her blades dwindled and she was suddenly overwhelmed by a wash of emotions. She was too proud to cry before the king, especially over the prince, and so she stayed silent.

“I am sorry, Yeyette,” Thranduil’s voice shocked her, it was quiet and honest, “I truly am. I should never have…I know I cannot atone for what my son has done and what he continues to do. I had only been so foolish as to believe that marriage could change him.”

“Please, stop,” The princess’ voice was nearly a whisper, “These kinds of marriages, they are what they are. I should only be happy he does not raise a hand to me.”

“Well, it is the one sin he is above, I suppose,” The king’s voice held even more disdain then Yeyette felt, “I tried to teach him but he has always been of his own mind. He is loyal and yet he has a streak in him. He loathes being told what to do.”

“I don’t want to talk about him,” Yeyette’s voice was louder and she turned her gaze to Thranduil, “Please, I came out here so I would not have to think about him.”

Another silence rose between them and the princess dropped her head, staring sightlessly at the dirt around her boots. The chirping of birds had turned to a sombre dirge and was the only sound within the clearing. Yeyette wanted to leave, but she did not want to return to the palace. She wanted to venture further into the trees and never return. 

“I should have married you myself.” Thranduil’s voice sounded hollow and unsteady as he spoke amid the mournful songs of the forest, “Perhaps, I regret that I had not.”

“What?” Yeyette gulped as she looked to him, her brow creasing deeply, “Why would–”

“I know why you agreed to this marriage, you are a dutiful princess and loyal daughter. An elf of integrity,” He held her eyes with his, “But I knew that Legolas is not. I would have at least tried to make you happy even if there was little love between us.”

“Don’t say that,” The princess looked around as if there were a dozen watching eyes in the trees, “That is…wrong. You are the king and—and my father-in-law.”

“Most kings marry princesses,” He carried on steadily, without hesitation, “And what truly is the state of your marriage to my son? Has he consummated the union? Has he even touched you? He seems barely to dare to look your way.”

“Please, we should not be talking about this.”

“He hasn’t and he is a fool for it,” His hand found Yeyette’s atop her lap and pulled it to him, “Do you not feel lonely, my dear?”

“…I do, but it is not for me to speak of to you,” She insisted but she made no effort to pull away her hand. He noticed and set it lightly upon his chest.

“I feel your loneliness,” His had held hers over his heart, “For I have caused it…but I could be the one to cure it.”

“No,” She whispered weakly though he felt warm beneath her palm. The ice within her began to soften and a chill trickled through her, “You cannot. I cannot. I am married to your son.”

“I would not force it upon you, Yeyette, as I did the prince,” He dropped his hand from hers but hers remained. She was drawn to him though her mind told her to be repulsed, “It is for you to decided. Stay…or walk away. It is up to you.”

She looked into Thranduil’s eyes, searching them for whatever trick he was up to. Instead, she found his silver irises to be pure and endless. In them, she saw her own pain and deeper even, a glimmer of hope. Not love or any fanciful dream like that, but comfort, even just a friend. Her hand brushed over the silk of his robe and under his thick hair, settling in the nook of ear and jaw. She pulled him forward and lifted her lips to his, her actions guided by an irresistible force.

She had kissed another before but those had been careless pecks and empty embraces. There was more to this one. It was as if she had been waiting her whole life for it. She was filled with warmth and it sparked within her a sense of longing she had not known she possessed. It turned to a fire and she had both arms around his neck, pulling him closer and he was holding her firmly against him. He moved like he wanted to devour her, lifting her onto his lap without his lips leaving hers, and she hoped that he would.


	7. Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeyette struggles to reconcile her own deceit with that of others.

Yeyette sat up suddenly. The daze which had overtaken her slowly fading away as she felt the sunlight warm across her bare chest. Thranduil’s fingers reached up and trailed down her spine, sending a chill through her which rivaled the guilt brewing in her stomach. _What had she just done?_

She looked over at the king lying beside her, his cloak spread below the two of them though his hair was strewn across the dirt. His broad pale shoulders topped a muscled chest which only minutes ago she had been admiring with eyes and hands alike. She turned and pushed his hand away as she came up on her knees, trying to fend off thoughts of their illicit act.

“No, no, no,” Her voice was filled with panic as stared at her from below, “What have I done?”

“Yeyette,” He said calmingly, sitting up as his hand steadied on her arm, “It’s alright.”

“No, it’s not,” She frowned as her heart began to race with shame, “I am married to your son.”

“And where is he right now?” Thranduil insisted, pulling her closer to him, “Tell me you did not like it and I shall let you go and forget it even happened?”

“I–” She sputtered, overcome with a rush of memories. She could still feel the tingle he had left between her legs and the heat he had spread across her flesh with his hands. He had been gentle yet decisive and she had welcomed him. She had longed for him. Perhaps that was why she felt so terrible because she had been unable to keep herself from it, “He’s your son.”

“Who cares not for you,” He contended, his hand trailed up her neck before he traced the line of her jaw with his finger, “Nor for me. I only want to help you, Yeyette. So, what will it be? Shall we forget this little tryst, if that is what you would leave it at?”

“I don’t want to…forget,” She admitted, pulling forth the long strands of his hair to drape down his chest, “But I don’t want to have done such a terrible thing. It is a betrayal and a sin.”

He kissed her before she could continue further and again she sunk into his embrace, nearly biting his lip in her desire. When he was not touching her, it seemed so very easy but the moment she felt his lips on hers, all of her doubts washed away. He pulled back, his silver eyes swimming with light as he watched her. “So?”

“I don’t want to hurt him, even if he has hurt me,” She whispered weakly, her hand entwined in his hair, “But I don’t want this to end.”

“It doesn’t need to,” The king slowly removed her hand from his tresses and brought it to his lip, a gentle kiss upon the back, “He doesn’t need to know as he has judged it proper to keep you as ignorant. Besides, I do not think he would think to notice, not with his own secrets.”

“His sins do not make mine right,” Her voice was brittle as he squeezed her hand within his, “What will happen if he does find out? What then?”

“What, indeed? Would he care?” He began to rise as he kept hold of her hand and pulled her with him, “Think this over, Yeyette, I would not think to make your decisions for you. Let us get dressed and return to our lives before they seek us out.”

“Alright,” She accepted meekly as he released her hand and she searched for her clothing tossed all around the clearing. Smallclothes, breeches, tunic. boots. Her hair had been pulled loose in their lust and she could not find the tie to bind it. Instead, she combed her fingers through it as best she could before she began to buckle her belt around her waist.

“Here you are,” Thranduil held out the roll of throwing knives, “Best not to forget those.” She took them and tucked them under her arm as she tried to come up with words, “Do not worry yourself, Yeyette, you do far too much of that as it is. Just know that I truly did enjoy this and I like you. A lot. I would not ask for your love or any foolish fancy like that but I know there is something between us. I only hope that you will consider it. As much for yourself as for me.”

“Thranduil,” She caught his hand before he withdrew it entirely, “Thank you. I am sorry.”

“For what?” His expression faltered for a minute with anxiety.

“That I cannot give you an answer,” She pressed his hand gently before dropping it, “I cannot. Not now. I can barely think…I am so lost and–.”

“Of course,” He stepped back and picked up his cloak from the dirt, shaking the dirt and dust off of it, “But you owe me no apologies. Not ever.”

Yeyette stayed silent as she watched him drape the cloak over the crook of his arm and suddenly his stern veneer returned to him. He was no longer the tender elf who had lain with her on the forest floor, he was once more the king of Mirkwood. His silver eyes had hardened and his mouth was drawn in a straight line which hid all emotion.

“But I must admit, I did not intend for this to happen so suddenly,” He stopped before her, his voice had regained all its formality, “I was to inform you that you and your husband are to sup with me this evening. Royal business, you understand?”

“Tonight?” She squeaked, the prospect of sitting between Legolas and Thranduil seemed even more daunting now. Would she be able to hide her guilt? “Can you not postpone it?”

“No, I am afraid not,” He shrugged and she realized that he was no longer merely an elf, he was king again, “I have already invited my son. Besides, I would have my business dealt with sooner than later.”

“Do you not realise how…awkward that may be?” She asked desperately as she stood in his way, “Please, at least excuse me from the dinner. You can deal with the prince on your own.”

“Oh, but this business has everything to do with you, Princess,” His silver eyes settled on her decisively, “I will see you at dinner.”

He sidestepped her and she listened to his light footfalls as they faded into the trees. Yeyette was unable to move as she stood in the middle of the clearing. She looked to the ground where the dirt had been grooved in their lust and another wave of guilt fell upon her. She had a decision to make but even as she wanted it to be obvious, the stirring in her chest complicated matters.

After returning to the chamber she shared with her husband, Yeyette stripped herself of her dirtied clothing and called for Enid to draw a bath. She soaked in the steaming water though not in an attempt to wash away Thranduil’s touch. Rather she sought to rid herself of her own guilt. Despite efforts to convince herself that she had done no worse than Legolas, she could not but feel ashamed.

The princess added lavender to her bath and the scent calmed her for a time. The water began to cool and she scrubbed at flesh and hair before finally removing herself from the tub. Even as she wrapped herself in clean linen, she could not shake the feeling that she was dirty. While she continued to remonstrate herself for her weakness though, memories of it roused in her a longing for more. As terrible as she knew it had been, she caught herself wading into fantasy about the silver king.

Enid brought her a plum coloured gown and fresh small clothes, helping her dress quickly before drying her hair. The princess bound the hair herself, recalling how Thranduil had loosed it from its tie and buried his fingers in the spiral tresses. As she looked in the mirror, her cheeks darkened as her mind lingered on the scene and she felt a flutter from within.

“My lady,” Enid interrupted her lurid imaginations, “What is the matter?”

“Hmm, what do you mean?” Yeyette asked evasively as she cleared her throat.

“You just looked…flushed,” The ladyservant eyed her a moment but did not seem too concerned, “What occasion are you dressing up for anyhow? Another dinner?”

“We usually go to dinner in the hall,” The princess explained. There was no reason for her to already know of Thranduil’s invitation without first speaking with her husband.

“You seem in a good mood, my lady,” Enid smiled at her but Yeyette could not return the gesture. Her guilt returned, biting at her neck as she tried to swallow it back.

The door opened before the princess could try to change the subject and Legolas stepped into the room with a sigh. His eyes were dull until they settled on Yeyette and he straightened his shoulders as he neared her vanity. “Oh, you are dressed. Very well, we are to dine with my father tonight.”

“Another dinner?” She feigned surprise as she tried to catch her husband’s evasive eyes, “Well, I _am_ hungry. How was your day? Did all your business go well?”

“It was alright,” He looked to her at last and she sensed him bristling, “Why do you ask?”

“You are my husband,” She did not know why she prodding so when she was as false as him, “I was only trying to be polite.”

“I…didn’t mean to be rude,” His lips creased as he looked to the floor, “Sorry. I am merely tired. It was a bit of a hectic day.”

“Of course,” Yeyette accepted with a sly tone, “Acting the prince can be quite the tiring affair.”

Legolas’ eyes rose from his boots to hers and for a moment his eyes sparked. He examined her as she offered only an innocent smile before stepping past her chair. She heard the handle of the washroom click and his footsteps pause, “I must get cleaned up before we are off to dinner. I apologize for keeping you waiting once more.”

“Not at all, husband,” She replied without looking over her shoulder and instead her face hardened as she met Enid’s gaze, “You have your duties and I have mine.”

The door closed behind her and Enid finally let down her mask, a look of surprise upon her face. “My lady, forgive me if I am untoward, but while the prince may not notice, you cannot be so crass.”

“I shall forgive you that, Enid, for I think my marriage to be my own business,” She stood and slowly crossed to her maid, though her face softened, “And I thank you but he is far too distracted to be concerned with the tongue of his very own wife.”

“You do not know that he was not at work today, my lady,” Enid tried to placate the princess weakly, her deep blue eyes nervous.

“But I suspect you do,” Yeyette gave a wry grin as she pressed a hand to her ladyservant’s upper arm, “I know servants. They thrive on gossip and doubtless you’ve heard the whisperings. Do not lie to me, Enid.”

“I…heard Ranulf, the prince’s privy servant, whom you know,” She admitted guiltily, looking down at the princess who was shorter by a few inches, “Telling stories but he is always telling tales.”

“But telling them nonetheless,” The princess sighed as she dropped her hand and turned to squint at the bath chamber door, “How long until those tales reach the lords and ladies of Mirkwood? Until all know of how farcical this marriage truly is.”

“What will you do, my lady?” Enid asked gently as she pushed back a curl which had escaped Yeyette’s hair tie.

“What is there to do?” She looked to her ladyservant again with a sad smile, “But I should at least meet this lady who mocks me so.”

“You…cannot,” Enid sounded fearful as she stepped closer.

“Why not?” Yeyette challenged as she took her maid’s hands in hers and turned her body to her, “Do you think she would say anything? Or perhaps you worry about my husband? You truly think he is brave enough to keep me from doing so? No. He has his little secret and he wants to keep it.”

“My lady,” The ladyservant’s voice was resigned but worried.

“Besides, I will not sit around and sink into despair over a man who does not love me,” She straightened her shoulders and set her features in passive determination, “I will find my own joy in this dark kingdom.”


	8. An Invitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeyette finds herself with new responsibilities as she lays her own plot among Mirkwood’s court.

Yeyette found herself once more sitting at the long table in the dining hall beside her straw man of a husband. It was only them and the cutlery as they awaited the king who had never before been late. The princess repressed a yawn. She was only starting to realize how tired her earlier toils had made her. The prince sighed loudly and gripped the handle of a butter knife, his impatience apparent in the white of his knuckles.

“I hate when he does this,” Legolas sneered and lifted the blade to admire the reflection of the lantern light along the silver edge, “He calls _me_ irresponsible…”

“Mmm,” Yeyette grumbled but said no more as she dared not wade further into the waters of their rivalry.

“He likes to keep me waiting every now and then, to make a point,” Legolas scoffed and dropped the knife with a clatter, “To remind me of his eminence. I had thought, however, that he would show a little more graciousness to his daughter-in-law.” Despite speaking of her, the prince seemed barely to notice Yeyette as his voice carried low in his anger, “For all I’ve done for him,” His lips were tense and wrought with resent as he let the statement hang heavily in the air.

Yeyette knew what he wanted to say. He had married her in hopes of alleviating himself of the tyrannical paternalism of Thranduil and all it had done was steal from him even more his freedom. That was all she was to him. A burden. A shutter. Little more than air. She was nothing to him. She would only ever be a curse.

“My apologies,” The king suddenly appeared as his voice carried across the high vaults of the ceiling, “Truly, I must apologize most deeply.” He walked swiftly along the opposite side of the table, lowering himself into his chair lightly with a sly smirk, “I am a king and I have my duties but I am most reproachable for letting them infringe upon each other.”

“Father,” Legolas nearly growled but his innate Mirkwood subtlety evened his tone to a venomous purr, “So nice of you to join us.”

“Should I take to my knees and beg?” Thranduil tossed back in challenge, a thick brow rising wryly, “You are one to be so unforgiving. How many times I have waited for you only to find myself in eternal anticipation.”

“Judgment lay heavier upon the shoulders of a prince than any king for he must carry all for both of them,” Legolas’ eyes were fiery and mirrored his father’s and yet as they met, the dulled and both repressed their anger into passive surrender. They had fought many battle before and neither longed for another. They would rather a silence wrought with unsaid grievances than a chaotic war of barbs. “You are right, though, kings are oft busier than any.” Legolas appeased and waved away his wrath, “Why exactly have you called us here if you are so hard-pressed? A private affair, nonetheless.”

 _Affair._ The word made Yeyette blanch but she hid it well as she sipped from her wine and watched as Thranduil lifted a silver lid from a platter. He had plainly heard his son’s words but seemed to be deliberately drawing out his answer. It was part of their latent war. One which would have no victor and yet would never end. No treaty could be writ or surrender would be considered.

“Council business,” The king answered and his smirk remained a shadow on his lips. Yeyette looked at her husband without turning her head and in her peripheral, she noticed the flinch. She felt her husband’s nervousness and sensed his brief panic. Then his façade returned as quickly as it had dissolved.

“And what business would that be?” The princes asked pointedly.

“Before we discuss such tedium, I should like a proper greeting with our princess,” Thranduil looked to Yeyette who was thus thrown into the same momentary panic as her husband. She found her composure easily though as she realized her husband had already lost interest. “So,” The king continued, “Are you enjoying your new home?”

“Very much,” The princess answered and breathed a silent breath of relief between words, “I am still finding my way but I am sure it will show itself to me soon.”

“It can be difficult to find comfort in a foreign place but you do seem to be taking it well,” His eyes twinkled, if for a second, and she kept her face blank, her husband stared at the wall with disinterest, “But, I shall not carry on. I see I am boring the prince already.” 

Legolas’ eyes slowly returned to his father with disdain. “Not bored,” The prince corrected shortly, “Merely waiting. Patiently. I am most eager to hear this council business which could not wait for the morrow.”

“Of course,” It was a phrase of acceptance and yet Thranduil sounded anything but pleased, “I understand council can be tiring but it is unavoidable.” The king took his fork and speared a steamed cherry tomato, the juice seeping from its wounds, “Though I am afraid I should have been more plain. This council business has more to do with Yeyette than you.”

“Yeyette?” Legolas knit his brow and slowly turned his gaze to the princess who looked as confounded.

“Me?” She asked and leaned forward slightly, “And what would that business be?”

“I have been amiss in my delay but I fear I was distracted by the nuptial festivities and negotiations,” Thranduil let out an audible sigh as he spoke, theatrical and yet it would seem honest to any who did not know the character of the king, “Yeyette, you are the Princess of Mirkwood now and that is more to us than the wife of our prince. It means you will one day be queen and as such you must be prepared.” He looked to Legolas for a second before back to the princess, “It would be my honour and that of all members of the council to have you join us. A seat awaits you with warm welcome.”

“Council?” Legolas spoke the word before she could though he sounded much more incredulous, “What for?”

“Because I am a princess,” Yeyette interjected, her husband’s obvious disapproval riling her. His immediate instinct to speak for her added to her irritation. She was her own person, at least he wanted little enough to do with her, she should be able to offer her own words. Her own answer. “As he said, I am intended to be queen someday. Besides, I am not unexperienced,” She looked back to Thranduil, though she remained stoic against her urge to smile at him, “I sat on my father’s council for many years. I have acted much as you have, Legolas, in _your_ royal duties. I should be most pleased to do as much here.”

“Certainly,” The prince relented begrudgingly and looked back the wall, “I would not presume to make your decisions for you. I was merely…curious.”

“Very well,” Thranduil’s voice curtailed any spousal hositility, “We should all be pleased, then.” His eyes honed in on Legolas, his expression suddenly grew smug, “A strong prince needs a stronger wife.”

Yeyette finally grasped the subtext of the offer. She had no doubt that she was entitled to a council seat but she had not realized Thranduil’s secondary motive. She had forgotten, for a moment, the loving embrace they had shared in the forest. Now it returned to her mind and revealed to her the truth. Her sitting on council meant that Legolas had one less lie to hide his affair. The king had offered a blatant challenge to his son’s dishonesty.

Then the princess was rushed with another realization. Thranduil was also challenging her. He was reminding her of the decision she was to make. The choice he had given her earlier that day. The escape he was offering. She would have to choose whether she would continue swallowing the bitter lies offered by her husband or if she would accept the sweet solace of the king’s embrace. It seemed an easy decision; loneliness or affection. Either way, she would have to live with deceit.

* * *

Yeyette’s first council session went about as well as she could have expected. The other members seemed utterly oblivious to anything but realm matters but the princess was all too aware of the underlying tension. The king was carelessly arrogant as he basked in the glare of his son and Legolas would barely say a word for the ire brimming within.

The princess herself was not unwelcomed, she had been received by the councilors with grace but there seemed one who was reluctant to accept her presence. It was even worse that it was her very own husband. Legolas had said little since their dinner with the king and when it came time to make their way to council chambers, he had not offered his arm to her. He had done this consistently since their wedding and it told her of his discontent.

She shrugged it off swiftly and took her seat with a genuine smile. It was refreshing to sit on council once more, it reminded her of her home. Of her father and her siblings. Politics were rarely different regardless of location and so she easily settled and focused on the task at hand. She listened closely, eager to offer her own advice once she could grasp Mirkwoodian attitudes. It would take some time but it would keep her distracted.

When the session ended, she followed her husband to the door but he told her in the hall that he had another matter to tend to and that he would see her back in their chambers. She had expected as much and perhaps, for once, he was not speaking of _her_. She watched him lithely walk away as she was little anxious to return to the emptiness of her marital rooms. The other councilors streamed out and nodded their farewells until one stopped before her. The only one that mattered.

“Princess,” Thranduil greeted as he let his trail after his advisers, waiting to continue until they disappeared around the corner, “How was your first council meeting?”

“Well, I think,” She answered, trying to hold back the colour rising along her neck and threatening to seep across her cheeks.

“My son seems unhappy,” He commented and crossed his arms as her looked down at her, “But don’t let him bother you.”

“Trust me, he hasn’t the time to bother with me,” The words were out before she could censor them and the disdain within her darkened every one.

“Yeyette,” Thranduil breather and his expression demurred, his kingly veneer shed in an instant, “Have you considered our–”

“I am still considering,” She cut him off as she looked away, her eyes to the floor, “I am trying to figure things out. Myself, included.”

“Fair enough,” The disappointment she had expected to hear did not ring clear, instead muted by compassion, “I would not press you to decide…but your husband. My son, he concerns me. I had meant to help you, not to upset him. I had thought your sitting on council a natural choice.”

“There is no pleasing the prince,” She grumbled, grasping her tunic hem in her fingers. She had decided that council would be a fresh start which for her meant no gowns unless absolutely required. “Not for me or you, anyhow.”

“Focus on yourself,” He advised and gently brushed her arm before rescinding his hand, “You cannot punish yourself for my son’s sins.”

“Oh, I am not intending on it,” She straightened her shoulders, “I am not one to hide. It is not in a Niqeth’s nature to do so.”

“No, I would not think so,” He dropped his arms and righted his posture, his face returning to the stone of kingliness, “I shall see you later, Princess…and I await our meeting most impatiently.”

Thranduil left her as she mumbled her farewell and she watched him go. His stride was long and determined and he did not look back. She turned slowly and began her own path down the corridors. She had much more to think about and it was not all council business clouding her head.

* * *

The feast hall seemed fuller than usual but perhaps that was because Yeyette was alone as she walked along the line of chairs. She found her reserved seat just beside her husband’s vacant one and sat without a word. Legolas had bid her dine without him as he had returned that afternoon in a cloud of moodiness. She had obliged without a second thought, preferring the raucous crowd to the sombre prince.

As she sat, she espied a head of golden locks, straight and neat, nearly bronze as the lanterns caught them. Yeyette caught her breath and gripped the edge of the table as she settled into her seat. Her eyes did not retreat from the elf just diagonal from her as she began to serve herself from the platters and she began to plot. _How was she to do this?_

She filled a glass with deep red wine, sniffing it as she watched the rosy cheeks of the elf known as Serene chatter with the honey-haired companion to her side. The wine was acrid and reminded her of her want for the deep plum cordials of her homeland. She sipped with a grimace and lowered the crystal glass, letting her face soften to a friendly smile. It was easy to be vengeful, but it was more satisfying to be nice. How the elf would wonder at the princess’ grace.

“Pardon me,” Yeyette called across the table, her voice low but steady. The calm tone reminded her of her own father, of the ease with which he faced his battles. “I fear I have not yet been introduced to you, my lady. Serene, is it?”

The blond looked to her, her smile dying at once as dismay turned to surprise and then slowly she regained her joyous demeanour. “Princess,” Her voice was smooth and intoxicating, “My apologies. I have been rather clueless and more irresponsible. I do wish we would have had the chance by now but I suppose now is better than later.” She flicked her lashes, no doubt a gesture which entranced the prince, “Yes, I am Serene. I am honoured to finally have a formal introduction.”

“I should beg _your_ forgiveness,” Yeyette assured, leaning back as she masked her doubts, “It is my duty to know my subjects.” _Good, she must remind this elf who the true princess was_. “Oh, but marriages are much work.” Serene’s eyes strayed for a moment. _Was that guilt or smugness in her sky blue eyes?_

“Certainly, though I have yet to learn so for myself,” The lady smiled and her laughter spilled forth, a melody which befit any callous siren, “One day, I suppose.”

“Any elf should be lucky to have such a beautiful wife,” Yeyette returned her own smile and sipped once more from her glass, _Or to have such a delicious secret to hide from his wife._ “We really should find you a husband. I could help, I have connections. And you must drop my salon for tea, it should be wonderful.”

“Of course, my princess,” Serene bowed her head in deference but there was an air of superiority to her. _Did she think Yeyette so ignorant? Was she laughing within at her perceived naivety?_ “I would be honoured.”

“I shall let you eat your dinner then and forgive me for interrupting your conversation,” The princess looked to Serene’s companion, “You, of course, are welcome as well, my lady.”

“Layna,” The elf piped up but was disappointed to find the princess already finding interest in her plate.

Yeyette let her eyes wander as she forked a piece of steamed onion and nibbled it. She found the king watching her and she could tell he had taken in her little conversation. His brow raised in question to her and she returned a subtle shrug. He was not the only one who could play games though he was teaching her much about the art of it.


	9. Courtly Duties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeyette starts playing her part at court though her husband is yet to play his.

Yeyette looked around the chamber with her hands upon her hips, shining a satisfied smile to the room. She had not accomplished much since her arrival in Mirkwood more than a month ago, yet in one morning, she had done more than a week’s worth of work. The carved desk she had brought with her from the Frost Meadows sat near the far wall and the rest of the vast chamber was devoted to a more relaxed scene. Loveseat, chaise, armchairs. A perfect salon.

She adjusted the crocheted centre-piece upon the table as Enid entered with a large tray leading a train of servants behind her. The princess’ guests would arrive shortly and she needed to play her part without misstep. The last to enter among the servants was the last person she had expected to see that noontime, though she was not surprised.

“Yeyette,” Legolas crossed the room with consternation, passing the servants as they began to set the spread, “I’ve been looking for you.”

“Looking for me?” She could not mask her curiosity and grinned, “Well, I’ve been here all morning.”

“I woke and you were gone,” He explained, ignoring her words, “What roused you so early?”

“I am arranging my court…at last,” She announced and gestured over to the servants for them to remove the platter covers, “I have invited my ladies for tea and they should be here shortly. Wouldn’t you say it’s past time?”

“Mmm,” He slanted his lips and kept his eyes from looking around the bustling chamber, “I suppose…”

“Oh, my lady,” Enid was at the door greeting the first guest and the rest of the servant retreated to the side door, “If you would follow me.”

“Welcome,” Yeyette sidestepped her husband and greeted the first to arrive, “Caryn,” She said in a bright voice, “So lovely to have you with us. If you would have a seat at the table, we are still awaiting the others.”

“Yeyette,” Legolas was at her side once more as Caryn bowed her head and headed for the table, “Why are you doing this now?”

“Admittedly, I’ve not been a very adept princess as yet,” She replied with mock shame, “But it doesn’t mean I cannot start now. You have your courtly business and I have mine,” Yeyette turned as another guest entered and greeted the elf smoothly before returning her attention to the prince, “After all, now that I have a seat on council I must know my subjects.”

“Hmm,” He grumbled as more ladies entered and his eyes graced the doorway with detest, “You are acting very oddly.”

“Am I?” She asked with wonder and smiled past him, giving a courtly wave to her guests, “And how would you know that I was acting oddly? We may be married but I dare say I barely know you myself and I am certain you could say no different. I would not be sure if you were acting oddly or not.”

“Yeyette,” He uttered her name once more with rising frustration, “I know we’ve a bit of an awkward start but I’m…trying. Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Legolas, please, I am fine. I am trying, too. Trying to adjust, don’t you see?” She placed a hand lightly upon his shoulder and looked past him once more as the doorway was shadowed with garnet silk, “Serene,” Yeyette’s voice was a smooth as the elf’s dress as she brushed my Legolas, “I am so pleased that you could accept my invitation.”

“Oh, not at all, Princess,” She replied graciously, though she made little effort to hide the coy glance she sent in the prince’s direction, “I’ve actually been dying to know our mysterious Niqeth princess.”

“Mysterious?” The princess echoed wryly, “Is that what you all are saying of me?”

“Oh, we are merely curious,” The golden-haired courtesan, _ahem,_ lady preened and allowed Yeyette to guide her towards the ladies already sitting around the oblong tea table, her deep red skirts swishing deliberately across Legolas’ toe as she did.

The princess withheld a grimace as she noticed the subtle trick and carried on, “Go on, I’ll be with you in a moment,” She turned back to Legolas who seemed displeased at her friendliness, “I merely need to tend to spousal matters.”

“I…apologize for intruding,” He said quietly, his face ashen as his eyes removed themselves from Serene, “I only meant to see that you were well.”

“Very,” Yeyette assured him though she spoke with an undertone of spite, “You needn’t worry so for me. I am most well.”

He blinked at her and swallowed back the words he meant to say. Changing his mind, he cleared his throat and slowly stepped away, “Alright then. I shall see you for dinner.”

“As always,” Yeyette promised and bowed her head with another smile. At least she could extract that measly daily ritual from her wayward husband.

She turned back to the table of ladies already chattering and gossiping as Enid poured the tea. The princess kept her regal veneer upon her lips though it threatened to crumble as she looked to Serene. The kitten-eyed elf was peering past her and she could tell she was tracking the prince as he made his silent exit behind her.

Tea was finally over. Yeyette clenched her jaw throughout the tiresome event as she listened to Serene babble. The other ladies joined her gaiety and yet, all the princess could hear was the dusky voice of her husband’s mistress. Thinly veiled comments about him had her bristling and by the time the ladies rose and shuffled out in their silks and satins, Yeyette was ready to strangle every one of them.

Enid closed the door after the last guest and the princess collapsed onto the loveseat with a sigh. “How absolutely insufferable!” She covered her eyes and held back the headache which threatened to turn her head into a boulder.

“Princess?” The lady servant approached her delicately, “Are you well?”

“Quite,” Yeyette dropped her hand and sat straight, “But those ladies. Gah. I didn’t realize they were all so…closely entwined.” She shook her head and frowned, “And all around that golden-haired siren. It is no wonder…” She could not finish her though and instead released another sigh.

“Princess,” Enid’s voice was brittle with caution, “Perhaps it is not so wise to, uh, to…”

“Enid,” Yeyette stood and approached her maid, “I thank you for your concern but I am doing what must be done.”

“And what must be done, Princess?” She pondered precariously, brow furrowed, “Torture yourself. Or would you have Serene do that for you?”

“No, I am only trying to figure it all out. Figure myself out,” Yeyette explained and gently placed her hands on the lady servant’s shoulders. Looking into her deep blue eyes, she saw the only gleam of companionship she could find that day, “I need to figure out where exactly I belong in this foreign land…or if I even belong at all.”

Enid stared back silently, her face a mask of empathy. All that feeling missing in her marriage there in the eyes of her own maid. Yeyette dropped her hands and backed away grimly, “Take the leftover scraps, Enid,” She said gently and turned to the chamber, “Your husband should appreciate a royal lunch. Besides, those ladies eat like the birds they are. Barely pecked a crumb from their plates amidst their chirping.”

“Thank you, my lady,” Yeyette heard the graciousness of her maid but was too miserable to look to her servant’s thankful smile.

Rather she waved over her shoulder weakly and headed for the door leaving Enid to collect her spoils. The princess walked down the corridors blindly; at least she had come to know the palace well enough. She seemed more intimate with the architecture of Mirkwood than her own husband and every column reminded her of that stark truth.

She came upon her chamber door and pushed inside, eager for the evening meal as she had not eaten anything at tea. She would have to wait a time to satisfy her hunger but she was glad to be alone. She took up one of the leather-bound books Legolas had brought her and seated herself upon the window seat. After the first page she could not but scoff as she realized it was a romance novella. She let herself guffaw with loathing but kept reading despite, burying her own story in that of the book.

She lost count of the pages and hours and was soon unkindly jolted from her reverie as the door sounded. Legolas entered quietly and his face betrayed his surprise as he spotted her sitting with book in hand upon the bench. She looked to him dully, waiting for him to speak and snapped the books shut on her lap.

“Oh, you’re here,” He always seemed so disappointed to find that she still existed, “I should think it fortunate that you are then. I’ve some news. Bad, I suppose,” He made no move to recline or settle in, he merely stood before the door like a lost child, “I must forgo dinner tonight. I’ve had a change in schedule but I suppose you could attend on your own. You needn’t remain cooped up in here.”

“Oh, must you miss it?” She challenged, suspicion trickling through her, “And I can?”

“Are you…upset?” He asked as if she were selfish to expect anything of him. If this was him trying, it was not very earnest.

“No,” She answered evenly, “I only did not expect it. Go on, then. I’ll find my own way to dinner.”

“Yeyette…” He began but she could have spit at the regret in his voice. How utterly fake.

“Really, it is not an issue,” She rose and her smile came so easily even though it hurt, “Whatever it is that keeps you, it must be important business.”

His reaction mirrored his earlier one. He was short of words and struggled to understand her. Perhaps that was why they remained so strange to one another because they were so different. His lies seemed to no longer be as convincing to himself as they once were and for a moment, she found comfort in watching him squirm. Yet, she could get no gratification from him, however it may come. Not while he was so eager to find it elsewhere all while making her the fool.

“It must be later that I thought. And I am rather famished,” She straightened her skirts and began towards the door, “I should go down early and make sure to get my fill. Maybe I should have some for you too.”

“Hmm, maybe,” He side stepped her with his eyes on the floor, letting her pass, “I’ll see you later then.”

“I suppose you will,” She held her smile, placid and agonizing upon to her cheeks, “I hope your business will not keep you very late.”

She turned and swept through the door and he closed it behind her. At once, her eyes began to flare and her mouth fell into a scowl. She knew what her husband was about. What his business was. Even after the shameful palour he had shown earlier when face with his mistress, he would run back to her with tail between his legs. _Well, Legolas was not the only one who could do so._ She was not so alone as he thought her. No, she was furious and she was done.

She clamoured along, her steps turning to stomps as she hoped she was not too late. If dinner had already commenced, she surely was but she could bide her time a little longer. She had already waited too long. She rounded corners without seeing before here, not until she stood before the tall engraved doors. Rings of elvish script were carved in curlicues upon the wood and painted with gold laquer. She had never been through them though she expected few had been.

She stepped up to the looming oaken doors and pounded upon them forgetting all her doubts as she waited for a response. She did not hear the footsteps within and the left door opened suddenly and smoothly before her. The silver Elvenking stood there, an air of confusion in his pale eyes as they settled on her. She inhaled and gathered her wits before he could.

“Thranduil,” She spoke abruptly, his name giving her strength, the vision of him even more, “May I?” She waved past him to the chamber.

“Certainly,” She could hear the curiosity in his voice as he welcomed her inside and she entered impatiently, “Yeyette–” He closed the door and turned to the chamber only to have his words smothered with a desperate kiss.

Yeyette’s arms were around his neck in an instant and he seemed stunned by the suddenness of her embrace. She detached and released him, her hands finding his, “He won’t ever love me,” She said in a fragile voice, “Perhaps you won’t either but at the very least you would have me.”

“Without question,” He assured her and lifted her hand to his mouth, kissing it softly, “Yeyette, I-”

“No more apologies,” She asserted and stepped even closer to him, “You don’t have to say sorry for him any longer. Just…be with me.”

She drew him into another kiss and he returned it this time with a sudden fervor. She held him tightly, a warmth emanated from his form which she had never expected. She sank further into him as his arms wrapped around her and her mind was swept of harboured resent and worry. It was only the two of them. 

Them and nothing more.


	10. Letters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeyette receives an unexpected visitor.

Yeyette found the note when she had dressed that morning. The small parchment had been hidden in her boots and she had slipped it up her sleeve before Legolas could notice. She could not help but wonder how the king managed to have these messages secreted into her apartments but every few days, another appeared. Within was set their rendezvous.

Another scroll, less covert, bound by the seal of Rivendell had also been delivered. She had not read it yet. It was from her sister and she could wait a little longer for news of her birth, if those were the details within. Whatever the contents, she did not wish to dwell on them on such a day. It would be all too much as she counted the seconds between her and her meeting with Thranduil. So she tucked the letter in her tunic pocket and went about her day without a second thought.

Another council meeting. A subtle nod to the king to show that she had found his message. She left the session with a scandalous sense of excitement and retreated to her receiving chambers. There, she sat at her Niqeth-styled desk and shuffled through the sheets of parchment atop it. Since gaining her seat on council, she had more than enough to keep her busy.

Most of her afternoon was spent tending to these papers and avoiding any though of her husband. It was not often her mind strayed to Legolas anymore, it was his father who had her forgetting the words in front of her eyes. She had never expected Thranduil to be so gentle and caring. And such an affair she could never had foreseen. Yet she could not bring herself to feel guilty about her cuckolding, not while Selene flaunted her own affair so blatantly.

At last, Yeyette allowed herself a respite away from her desk and the piles of papers. She could barely focus through daydreams of the king. She returned to her chamber, as empty as it ever was, but did not rue its vacancy. As of late, Legolas had grown even more careless of her and himself but now that the princess had her own distractions, she barely noticed. They were as much strangers as they had been the day they had wed.

The prince was waiting in the feast hall to the right of his father in his usual seat. To her surprise, Serene was not sat just a few seats down but she asked herself no questions over the absence. She was no longer concerned with her husband’s affairs, they were not hers. He had never been hers to worry about and never would be. Yeyette looked to Thranduil once, vowing not to give herself away despite the fluttering in her stomach. Unlike her husband, she had a sense of discretion.

“Husband,” Yeyette broke the rigid silence between son and father. Legolas was as usual lost in his own thoughts, “You seem…distressed.”

“Oh, uh, no,” He shook his head, his eyes straying to the empty seat where Serene would have sat. His face was a mask of irritation but it caused her none, “Just…thinking.” She did not long ponder his words, not caring for his problems, “You’ve been busy as of late,” He commented as a matter-of-fact.

“That I have,” Yeyette assured him tritely, “I would not say I ever expected the role of princess to be a carefree one.”

“No, it wouldn’t be,” He agreed and looked around the table with his pale eyes, “All these lords and ladies,” He scowled at every elf he laid his sights on, “I’d almost rather be a peasant than to deal with them further.”

Yeyette allowed herself a curious look in his direction, her eyes narrowed but free of judgment. She merely nodded and took her own examination of the table. She had found herself with similar thoughts in recent weeks and was stunned to find herself in alignment with her own husband. Court was tedious and the people more so. She had found herself wishing to be away from it since she had arrived in Mirkwood.

The rest of the dinner went quickly as Legolas said little and Yeyette concentrated on her plate. She ate without tasting a bite of it and drank little of the wine before here. She did not like to indulge on nights when she was to meet with Thranduil. Often, he had wine ready in his chambers for her though often they forgot about their glasses during such meetings.

When she returned to her chambers with Legolas, she changed quickly into her sleeping gown and retired to bed. He joined her soon after, dozing swiftly as she listened for his quiet snores. She looked at him through the darkness, his eyes closed, and sat up carefully, certain not disturb him. Were he to wake during her absence, not that he ever did, she would say that she could not sleep and had taken to her desk. She doubted he would question her explanation or that he would even care that she was not there. So she dressed quietly and was away without a second thought, creeping through the corridors.

Thranduil’s chambers were easy enough to find with the tall ornate doors but the distance between hers and his was tiresome. She tapped quietly in a rhythmic pattern they had agreed upon as a signal and he took little time in opening the door. Unlike previous nights, he was still dressed, his silk dressing robe still hanging by the wardrobe and his usual attire still stiff across his figure. She entered wordlessly and restrained herself from her desires as she wondered is something was amiss.

“What is the matter?” She asked once he had closed the door tightly.

“Nothing, my dear,” He took her hand in his and kissed it reassuringly, “Only a surprise.”

“A surprise?” She repeated warily, her stomach roiling with anxiety.

“Oh, don’t worry so much, Yeyette,” He said calmingly as he took her hand and guided her towards the hearth, “I meant to show you earlier but I kept forgetting…I suppose I was a bit distracted.” He grinned coyly and her cheeks coloured.

She kept silent as they stopped before the hearth and she waited for him to continue. She had waited all day for the night. So that she could relax. It had been three days since she had seen Thranduil thus and she was pent up. As of late, she had found herself thinking of him more and more often. He released her hand and crossed to the left side of the fireplace. She noticed that the wardrobe had been moved and her brows arched with curiosity.

He placed his hands firmly on the wall, the interwoven branches which decorated the panel shifted below his palms, and suddenly it swung inward. A door, indiscernible even to those who knew where it was, had appeared and led into a dark corridor. It was narrow, wide enough only for one person after the other, and set within her a sense of claustrophobia.

“How did you forget about this?” She asked dryly, “Where does it lead, anyhow?”

“It slipped my mind,” He smirked and looked into the darkness of the secret passage, “And I will show you where it leads.”

Thranduil winked at her before turning to step into the corridor, his fingers searching in the pocket of his jacket. He pulled out a flint and lit the first lamp ensconced along the wall and as he went further, he lit the next. He led her this way, sparking guiding lights as he did, the twists and turns made easier by the glow. He stopped suddenly before a wall, a dead end it seemed, and she nearly collided with him. He slipped his fingers into a newel and it clicked open to a dim, small chamber beyond.

Yeyette followed him into the tight space, looking around her at the clutter of shelves and buckets, “A broom closet?” She pondered warily.

“A broom closet,” He confirmed with a smile, “Two doors down from your own chamber. Built long before my time for whoever knows what but it serves our purpose now.”

“And you would propose that this tunnel be used for our meetings,” She crossed her arms and grinned at the dark cabinet, “Clever.”

“Don’t be coy with me,” He mused and bent to place a light kiss upon her lips.

“Should I wait until we return to you chamber?” She teased a swept aside a strand of his silver hair, “Or would you take me against the wall here and now?”

“Come on,” He placed a hand on her shoulder and turned her back to the passage, “Do not test my patience. It has been stretched far enough. I’ve been counting the minutes all day long.”

She went back through the narrow doorway, now the leader, and he pulled closed the door behind him. As she rounded the corners, he extinguished the lamps as they went and she felt almost lost at the twists and turns. It was not until she saw the glow of the chamber that she was assured she had not miraculously taken a wrong step though it was not possible.

When they re-entered the bedroom, Thranduil did not bother closing the door behind them. His patience had dwindled and he seized her before she could turn to him. He was unbuckling her belt as he edged her towards the bed, sloppy kisses along her neck as he nuzzled her hair. She allowed him to guide her as she longed for the very same lurid acts as him, her lust keeping her conscience in check.

Afterwards, she lay in his arms, warm in the haze of their indulgence. The chamber smelled of them and it was intoxicating. His hand trace curlicues upon her back and pulled his hair neatly down his chest, each strand perfectly straight. She could still feel the tingle he had left within her and she longed for it again.

“I’ll say it again,” Thranduil’s voice was low but sweet, “I should have married you.”

“Please don’t,” She begged and sat up as reality slowly drifted back to her, “Why must you ruin it so?”

“I’m sorry, Yeyette, but I think it every time I look at you,” His hand was still lightly upon her back. Her bare breast drew his gaze and his other hand traced the curve of it. “Such beauty needs to be appreciated.”

She smiled despite herself but looked away in an effort to hide it. Something caught her eye as she did, a patch of white among the smattering of their clothing on the floor. She separated herself from Thranduil who called her name in question as she walked across the floor and lifted the parchment from the floor. It must have fallen from her pocket.

“A letter from my sister, Analee,” She explained as she neared the bed, sitting lightly at the edge, “Well, I think it is, anyhow.”

“Oh,” He sat up curiously as she unrolled it, her eyes racing over the curves and lines of her sister’s writing without hesitation, “Analee says she is to visit Mirkwood. This must have been sent weeks ago.” She sighed as she lowered the scroll, “She is expected to arrive in two days.”

“Is that not good news?” He asked and his hand found her leg, resting upon it reassuringly.

“It is, of course,” She let the parchment curl as she loosened her grip on it, “But my sister, she is very…discerning. She gets that from my mother.”

“You worry she’ll find out about us?”

“No, I worry she’ll see how much of a sham my marriage truly is,” She frowned and placed her hand over his warmly, giving it an anxious squeeze, “And her pity is much more frightening than her wrath.”

Analee arrived early in the morning with a babe in her arms. Yeyette met her the same way she had been when she had arrived in Mirkwood. Legolas had the grace to attend the welcome and feigned enough familiarity with his wife to allow them a sweet reunion. The princess hugged her sister tighter than she intended and held her niece with a smile as she led her back to receiving chambers.

Tea had been set out for them by Enid and Legolas had excused himself to other business. Yeyette was relieved as she had not seen her sister in years and it had been even longer since she had been alone with her.

“So, Yeyette,” Analee began as she watched her sister cradle her son, “How are you liking marriage?”

“Oh, must we talk of such tedious matters?” The princess frowned and cooed at her nephew, “Really, Ana, we’ve not been in the same room for how long and you would have me speak of husbands.”

“You never were the romantic type,” Analee rolled her eyes, “But, wouldn’t you like a child one day? A little prince? Edwyn, he’s lovely, isn’t he?”

“And what about Daisy?” Yeyette challenged, wondering why her niece was not in tow, “I’ve not seen her since she was just as young as Edwyn.”

“She prefers Rivendell. She’s always been keen on her father…like you were with ours,” She gave a rueful smile, “It’s a nice break anyhow, so I don’t mind so much.”

“I would love a break, too,” Yeyette muttered and carefully reached for her tea, cradling the baby in one arm, “Even a day.”

“Oh, Legolas does not seem so boorish,” Analee insisted, adding yet more sugar to her cup, “Why Yaya, I dare say he treats you well. Besides, I always said marriage was an adjustment. It takes time.”

“Sure,” Grumbled Yeyette, “And don’t call me that, it’s a terrible moniker. Marriage is marriage. It is my duty to our family.”

“And to your husband?”

“My duty,” She repeated sharply, returning her attention to her nephew. She loved her sister but she did not feel so fond of her sisterly advice. She did not need her to discover how truly calamitous her marriage was.

That evening, dinner was the last thing on Yeyette’s mind. Her reunion with her sister had been nice but she hated the way Analee had looked at her as the luncheon ended. It was as if she were measuring her, as if her own maternal and spousal experience allowed her to see through her.

She did, however, go to dinner. Legolas escorted her with his arm through hers and they took their usual seats. Analee sat across from Yeyette, her son absent in the care of his nursemaid. Thranduil was engaged in conversation with her when they arrived and unlike his son, his geniality came naturally. Yeyette began to regret that she had not married him, his words echoing in her mind. Yet, she did not dwell on the though and pushed them aside with a false smile.

“Our forest is the envy of any kingdom,” Thranduil boasted, “Wouldn’t you agree, Princess?”

Yeyette was drawn from silence and she tried to hide the stir Thranduil’s voice had set within her. She cleared her throat and sat straight. It was no time to be careless. “Yes, truly lovely,” She kept her voice steady. She seemed to be the only who felt a rising tension, as if she had said the wrong words. “Oh, I forgot, Ana, to show you the knives our brother sent. You can see them tomorrow and I shall take you out to the woods.”

“Certainly,” She accepted easily, “He sent me a gift a while back, for Edwyn. A sword which won’t be of much use for time to come.”

“Knives?” Legolas chimed in and Yeyette was surprised to find that he was listening, “You never told me of any knives.”

“Didn’t I?” Yeyette feigned forgetfulness, “Oh, well, they’re nothing special. For throwing.”

“Well, after you show your sister you will have to show me,” He insisted, again surprising her with his interest.

“Very well,” She agreed and turned her attention back to her plate. The rest of the went by without significant conversation; Yeyette and Analee chattered, Thranduil provided his usual dry comments, and Legolas was as quiet and scant with words as usual. By the end, the princess was eager to return to her chamber and to be abed. If she could not see the king that night, she would have to content with her dreams.

As she rose to follow Legolas to the door of the feast hall, she was halted by her sister’s voice, “Yeyette, if you would stay. There is one thing I forgot earlier,” She sent a sweet smile to the prince, “It’s about mother.”

“I’ll see you in our chambers,” Legolas took the hint and nodded out politely, “It is not problem.”

He walked away swiftly and Yeyete swallowed back words. She waited silently as the chamber emptied and her sister stood beside her patiently. Thranduil caught her eyes as he left and she looked away sharply. At last, it was only her and Analee and he sister turned on her suddenly, “So, what is your excuse?”

“For what?” Yeyette’s voice was thin and raised at her sister’s accusation.

“I know, I saw it,” Analee hissed back quietly, “I may be the only one but I saw that tic. The one you get when you’re trying to hide something.”

“You’re delusional,” Yeyette sighed and rolled her eyes.

“You are cheating on your husband,” Analee retorted in a harsh whisper, “With his own father.”

“Shh!” Yeyette breathed desperately, burned by her sister’s tone, “You don’t understand.”

“I don’t need to, Yaya,” Her voice had softened and any hint of judgment dissipated, “It is your decision, I cannot think to tell you how to live your life, though I’d prefer if you actually lived it.” She looked down sullenly and back to her sister as her thoughts showed in her eyes, “It is a dangerous game you’re playing. Very dangerous. Just be careful.”

“Oh, Ana,” Yeyette was hugging her sister tightly as sobs threatened to rise in her throat, “I’ve been so miserable. Legolas, he–”

“Is no less guilty, I know. He has been unfaithful,” Analee rubbed her back comfortingly, “And hasn’t acted as a proper husband. I can tell.”

“I never meant to…” Yeyette’s voice faded away and she embraced her sister tighter.

“I know,” Analee replied in commiseration, “I cannot even imagine how terrible it must be, but please, promise me you won’t let them destroy you. Either of them.”

“I—I promise, Ana,” Yeyette stuttered into Lana’s shoulder, “I’m just so alone here.”


	11. Toe-to-Toe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeyette and Legolas have an unexpected afternoon.

Yeyette sat once more behind her grand Niqeth desk, this time sharpening a quill beneath her furrowed brow. Analee had left the day before to return to Rivendell and the princess felt a little emptier than she had before. The visit had reminded her of how much she missed her family and brought the realization clearer that the part of her life in the Frost Meadows was truly over. It was as if she had been cursed to be kept from those she loved while she was to be bound those who would never love her. She sighed darkly and set down her quill, her eyes sore from squinting at the nib.

A knock came at the door and she looked up unexcitedly, “Come in,” She called. If her fortune had changed at all, it would be Enid and she could send the ladyservant for a bottle of wine.

Her hopes were dashed however as the door opened and her husband stepped through. Legolas wore a dark tunic with less decoration than his usual attire and his bow was strapped across his back as a quiver hung below his waist. To her surprise, there was an air of contentment to him and she had never seen him look anything close to happy. His steps were decisive as he neared her desk and his eyes determined, but she could not guess at what had changed him.

“Yeyette,” He greeted from the other side of her ebony desk, “Ready to show me those knives?”   

“Knives? What do you mean?” She frowned. His eagerness was confusing and she could not fathom how some silver daggers from the Frost Meadows could have roused him so.

“I recall you mentioning a certain set of throwing knives to your sister,” He explained, leaning on one leg casually, “And I did promise you once we would have a fair go of our mettle. You and your blades, me and my arrows.”

“You did,” She accepted precariously, thinking back to when she had still a hint of hope early on in their relationship. She had, over time, become convinced that those words had been as meaningless as his marriage vows, “I did not think you were serious. Not really.”

“Well, I was,” For a moment he sounded like his father and she could not help but wonder at his sudden interest in her. She recalled Serene’s absence at the feast hall days before and how she had sensed a tension forming between them, though she had not dwelled on it heavily, “So?” He tilted his head, “You cannot be that busy?” He looked at her desk, “Sharpening quills?”

“Mmm, no, not very.” She allowed and slowly she stood, pushing herself up by the edge of her desk, “Why not, then? I could use a respite.” He had never been entirely unkind to her so she could not be the one to initiate spite in their marriage, “Allow me to fetch my things and we shall be off.”

“Of course,” He backed away from her desk with a victorious smile as he watched her step around it, “I’ll be waiting at the front gates. I know the perfect place in the forest where we can practice.”

“Alright, sounds perfect,” He led her out the door and left her in the corridor with a small bow and she was even more confounded by his sudden change.

He set off towards the other side of the palace as she made her own path for their chambers, eager to have her weapons in hand even if the circumstance was a bit odd. She was wary of the impromptu training session and her husband’s shift in attitude but it sparked in her something she had given up on long ago. _Was there a chance that she could form a true relationship with her husband?_ _Even if they were only friends?_ It was helping her little to avoid him at every turn.

She swept into the chamber and retrieved sword and knives from the wardrobe. The daggers she held under her arm as she hung her sword at her belt. She was gladdened that she had forgone the gowns and taken to her former tunic and pants. Skirts were for entertaining and she could not suffer them when merely sitting behind her desk. Thus she scurried away to meet her husband who greeted her pleasantly and led her off into the trees. Both of them seemed to be revived by the prospect of wielding their arms.

Yet, as Legolas led her through the brush, she grew anxious as she recognized the path they were taking. With every step she hoped he would turn off soon and they would walk another direction. He did not though and they wove through the trees until they came upon a familiar clearing. It was the very one Yeyette had visited previously. Where she had first come to toy with her knives and where she and Thranduil had…she did not want to think of that now.

In the dirt remained the grooves which foretold of her guilt, the markings of two bodies writhing together in heated sin. Even weeks after, she swore it was entirely telling of her betrayal. Her stomach turned wildly as Legolas dusted his feet through the very patch she was fixated on and she swallowed back her shame. She thought of Serene to calm herself and to bring herself back to even ground with her husband.

“It looks like someone has been here already,” He ran his fingers along the punctured bark of the tree she had targeted before, “It doesn’t matter, though. It makes our target more obvious.” He peeled away the bark and let it fall to the dirt, “Whoever it was, struck true.”

“Right then,” Yeyette said before she could linger on thoughts of her former visit to the site, “Who is up first?”

“You. I’m rather excited to see these knives of yours,” He neared her as he crossed the clearing, “That is if you don’t mind.”

“Certainly,” She stepped over to the overturned tree and spread the roll of blades before her, “They’re pure Niqeth silver.”

“They’re well-forged,” He pulled one from its sheath and tested the edge with his finger, “Very unique, as well. I’ve never seen such a design.”

“My people are fond of wolves,” She explained to him simply. He knew little of the Frost Meadows, especially compared with Thranduil who often recalled her father. She halted her thoughts guiltily. _Now was not the time to be comparing them._

“Hmm,” He chuckled quietly, “They would be, wouldn’t they?”

“Oh, they would?” She stepped up and took the knife from him, “And what does that mean?”

He merely grinned and watched as she turned and aligned her shot, pulling back and releasing the dagger effortlessly. It buried into the tree in the exact place it had when she had thrown it before and she gave a boastful smile. She turned back to him and he appeared entirely amused by her, “It meant nothing,” He assured, “Nothing at all.”

“Well,” She gestured to the knives on the tree, “It’s your turn, then.”

“My turn?” He nodded and pulled another blade from the case, “Your shot was good. Well thrown, but a bit off-center. Allow me to show me where you should be landing.”

“Off-center?” She crossed her arms, his playful demeanour along with his words caused her to prickle, “Why don’t you take your shot and then we will discuss who’s off-center?”

He laughed again and she wondered again what had gotten into him. She watched as he straightened and set up his shot with focused eyes, his stance graceful and light. He threw his knife as easily as she had and it landed right beside hers, the sound of metal on metal sharp in the air. “See, you weren’t off by much.”

“Mmm,” She shook her head and took another knife from the set, meaning to take his place across from the tree.

“I hope that one’s not meant for me,” He kidded and she tilted her head at his uncharacteristic quip. She took his spot and threw the knife without a word, hitting the tree alongside the other two blades.

The other knives were thrown in turn and then Legolas offered up bow and arrows for another contest. That competition was cut short when the prince had grown frustrated by her unexpected accuracy and her sharp boasts. They called it a day when the sky had begun to haze with an evening violet and they packed up their weapons reluctantly. They set off back to palace with a new sense of understanding, though Yeyette was still confounded by the day’s turn of events. She was not unhappy with Legolas’ unexpected behavior, but it was adding to an already complicated situation.

Later that night, when Legolas slept beside Yeyette, she laid restless and confused. That night, she was meant to meet with Thranduil again and but now she was filled with a new sense of guilt. She had never hesitated leaving her marital bed before but she had little reason to then. _Was Serene no longer of interest to him?_

Even if she was no longer his mistress, why should Yeyette even consider forgetting her? Legolas had not given their marriage a fair chance to succeed and had pushed her towards her own treason in the union. At the thought, her self-loathing dulled and she rose quietly from the bed, slipping into a dressing robe and out to the corridors.

She found the broom closet and the secret door, lighting the lantern strategically hidden beneath a mop bucket. She began down the hidden passage and her guilt came back to her as she got closer to her destination. **What was she doing? Nothing,** she assured herself. Legolas was only being nice as he had in the early days of their marriage. It did not mean he had suddenly sought to look to her as his wife. _And Thranduil?_ He knew she was married to another and what their affair was. _If then, she was doing nothing wrong, why did she feel so disgusting?_

The door at the end of the passage was opened already and she forced herself from her dreadful thoughts. She made herself smile as she entered the chamber, Thranduil standing beside the door in his silk robe, his chest bared by fabric bound loosely at his waist. Looking at him then she was filled with desire and a gentle affection for his patience. But her sister’s words tainted her emotions as she recalled her warning. _Damn Analee for being the wise one._

“Yeyette,” Thranduil closed the door and took her hand in his as he guided her towards the bed. He sat on the edge and led her to stand before him, his own hand resting lightly on her waist as he looked up at her with smoky eyes, “I feared you would not come.”

“I…almost did not,” She admitted. He was the one person with whom she could not be dishonest, she owed it to him. “I was tired and…”

“You had a long day,” He interjected with a knowing grin, “With your husband, of all people.” Her cheeks burned at his words, “You _are_ married to him, Yeyette.”

“Yes, but…”

“But what?” He prodded lightly, “I know I cannot keep you from him, even if I wanted to. He is your husband, not me. If you can make your marriage work, I cannot and will not stop you,” He pulled her closer and his hands ran the curve of her hips, “But I will not deny myself from you either.”

“…Truly?” She was stunned by the gentleness of his words, “But why would you do that?”

“Because you are your own person, Yeyette,” He pulled her down warmly to sit on his lap, “I will do whatever you desire.”


	12. A Mountain Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeyette goes on a trip and gets more than she expected.

Council seemed to be carrying on endlessly and Yeyette was more than ready to hide behind her desk for the rest of the day. Or even go to the forest with her knives again. Instead, she listened to Thranduil with a blank expression as he discussed an upcoming banquet in celebration of the solstice though there was little change in the weather.

“Ahem, only one more matter,” Thranduil cleared his throat between sentences, a tinge of fatigue colouring his voice. She was likely the only who could hear it as his moods were subtle and hard to read for anyone else. “We must send an envoy to Erebor once more, for the final time, I hope. This treaty is close to signed,” He folded his hands on the table before him, “Legolas, I think it fitting that you are the one to go. Last time, you seemed to do quite well among the dwarves and we need this matter to be over with.”

“Erebor, again?” Legolas looked as close to a frown as Yeyette had ever seen, “I suppose it would be nice to get away for a time.”

“You’ve always seemed to prefer the road,” Thranduil commented monotonously, “I can only expect you’ll rather enjoy yourself this time.”

“I’ll take Yeyette,” Legolas announced as if it were a novel idea and the princess looked at him suddenly, “She should become acquainted with the dwarves. She will be queen of Mirkwood one day and if we are to maintain good relations, I think it only proper.”

“I would fathom you’re correct,” Thranduil looked less than content though his voice betrayed little, “Yeyette should be most welcomed. As I recall, the elves of the Forest Meadows share a peculiar allegiance with the dwarves of the Iron Hills, kin to the ilk of Erebor.”

“My father did speak highly of them,” Yeyette offered but the twitch in Thranduil’s cheek alarmed her.

“It will be good for the kingdom besides,” Thranduil continued though he seemed less than convinced of his own sentiment, “To have a young royal couple to represent Mirkwood.”

“So it is settled,” Legolas stood with a triumphant smile though his father had made no direction to dismiss the session, “We will leave on the morrow.”

“Very well, the sooner the better I suppose,” The king rose with sharp eyes, “Your absence will truly be felt but we will await your return eagerly.”

“Surely,” Legolas accepted with a peculiar grin before offering his arm to Yeyette as she pushed herself to her feet.

She took his arm carefully and looked back to Thranduil who shared with her a look confirming their later rendezvous. It was unplanned but she knew he would expect a proper goodbye before she went and she wanted to give him one. It would be odd to travel with Legolas on her own and to be so far from Thranduil. It seemed that whenever she began to settle, her life began to twist and turn around her.

The prince and princess left early the next morning on slender mares which trotted along the forest paths with a jaunt. Legolas had chosen to travel without an escort, claiming to have time on his mind. As they rode on, small talk coming here and there, the sun rose ever higher, paling from a warm amber to a burning gold in the pale blue sky.

While she mulled over the unexpected journey with her husband, Yeyette thought of Thranduil and the irritation with which he had met her the night before. He had not given voice to his discontent but she could sense it plainly enough. And their embraces had developed a new heat to them, rougher yet no less pleasurable, a lust driven by the king’s ire. Even so, their farewell had been less than favourable and the princess rode with a sinking gloom in her chest.

They arrived as the sun began to set on the third day, their horses tired and dragging their hooves wearily. Outside the dark mountain, a line of dwarves awaited them patiently as if they had an otherworldly foresight. More likely a sentinel had espied the elves on the horizon and sent word. The retinue which stood stoically along the stony exterior were thick of beard and body, though their height stunted. It had been a time since Yeyette had seen a dwarf and so many were novel to her, though they set in her a sense of reverence.

Legolas helped his wife down from her horse after dismounting his own swiftly and turned to lead her to the watchful welcome party. Each dwarf stood with neat braids in their hair, shining with silver beads as matching rings decorated their hands. Despite a reputation for savagery, they were the most noble creatures she had ever seen. Much tidier than their Iron Hill kin, though she could guess, none less stubborn.

“Thorin, of the line Durin,” Legolas announced as he neared the dark-haired king, marked by the black and gold crown across brow, “King Under the Mountain.” Despite his height, Thorin stood more majestic than any elf and faced with members of the reviled race before him, his chin rose high and discerning, “I am most pleased to return to the Mountain, I have always rather enjoyed this gloomy Mountain.” The king squinted at Legolas’ words but betrayed his amusement with a twitch of his lips, “May I introduce you to my wife, Princess Yeyette, formerly of the Frost Meadows.”

“Ever of the Frost Meadows, Lady of the Niqeth,” Yeyette corrected though not unkindly. She would have it known where she hailed from and of what blood she descended.

“You have married a Niqeth elf?” Thorin wondered aloud and his obstinate façade had fallen, replaced by a courtly smile as he gently took her hand with his burly one, “My lady. You must be the kin of that wolf king, Bernard. Mahal rest him.”

“His daughter,” She answered with a bow of her head, “Did you know my father then?”

“Of course, I did,” His smile did not waver and it brought back her grief to meet one who had also known the late king, “It has long been said he was distant kin of dwarves. Many thought him more dwarvish than elvish.”

“I have heard that old tale,” She smiled back kindly, “I thought it a jape but I fear myself unversed in dwarvish humour.”

“Then let us teach you,” Thorin kept hold of her hand and led her toward the line of dwarves, “Of course, elves have never been renowned for their wit.” He stopped her before a golden-haired dwarf, grinning in emerald brocade, a silver pin wrought into the likeness of a lion upon his jacket, “This is my nephew and heir, Prince Fili,” The king paused and looked to the next in line, dark-haired and as giddy as the other, “And his brother, Prince Kili.”

She greeted the royal nephews with another bow of her head and let Thorin guide her on. His introductions continued as Legolas followed silently, patiently waiting as the names were recited. Balin, Dwalin, Bombur, Bifur, Bofur, Oin, Gloin, Nori, Dori, and Ori. Members of the Company which had reclaimed Erebor. Their names stuck in her brain though their faces blurred together and she vowed to learn which went with which before their visit was through.

She held her smile, already feeling more at home among the half-men than she ever had in Mirkwood. Thorin released her and Legolas hooked his arm through her as any proper husband would and they followed the dwarves up the pass and into the dark mountain door. She had heard stories of the beauty of the Mountain and she was eager to see if they were true.

A feast awaited them and even more dwarves. To swept up in the warmth of Erebor to feel overwhelmed, Yeyette wondered if this was to mark a change in her marriage. Legolas was acting as he should have the day they married and she looked at him curiously as dinner commenced. He smiled at her and she wondered how the gesture had grown so familiar to her in the last weeks. _Was it possible she was growing accustomed to him?_

“Princess?” The kindly-faced dwarf, Bofur, she was sure that was his name, called to her from down the table, “You suit the prince well. A sparkling Niqeth gem upon his arm.”

“Aye, she does,” Dori agreed, though his name could have been Nori, “Perhaps you can knock some sense into the rest of those Mirkwood elves.”

“Perhaps,” She laughed and Legolas nudged her with mock offense, “Though it might take some time. You know elves.”

“Yeyette,” Legolas’ whisper kept her from another chuckle, “Are you enjoying yourself?”

“Of course,” She answered anxiously, unsure if her was remonstrating her, “It’s wonderful. Thank you.”

“For what?” He betrayed his own confusion.

“For bringing me,” She explained meekly as she looked him in the face, he had not often met her eyes, “I know you didn’t have to…Likely, it was not a prospect you relished.”

“Nonsense,” He waved his hand at your words, “You’re my wife and I should start acting like your husband.”

“Oh, should you?” She could not censor herself as long-held resent seeped to the surface.

“Look, Yeyette, I brought you here to apologize to you, or at least try to,” He kept his voice low as shame coloured his ashen skin, “Please. I know I’ve been awful,” He rested his hand lightly on hers as if sure she would recoil, “I am tired of it all. The court. My father. All of it.” He looked down and contemplated with a sigh, “I don’t want to do it on my own and it was selfish of me to leave you out like I did.”

“What changed?” She asked pointedly, her voice causing him to look up with wide eyes.

“Me…you,” He said and leaned back weakly against the chair, “We both gave up before we could even begin.”

“Well, I suppose you’re right,” She took her stein of ale as she wrestled with her guilty, “We should try…shouldn’t we?”

“I—Yes, if you would allow it,” His voice was hopeful but thin, “Shall we start over tonight?”

“Tonight,” She agreed with a nod and slipped her hand out from beneath his to place it atop his own, “Now, husband, let us enjoy this wonderful meal and see where the evening leads.”

The dwarves welcomed them back into the conversation as if they had not noticed their whispers and soon the royal couple were lost in the rabble. Yeyette was surprised to see Legolas laughing so often and to find herself doing so at his little jokes. She had never guessed he would have a lick of humour in him.

He listened closely to her, she noticed, when she told the dwarves of the snow wolves and snow owls in the Frost Meadows and he asked her to describe to him the notoriously harsh Niqeth winters. As the food dwindled and the conversation calmed, they finally stood and bid the dwarves good night, the fatigue of the road descending upon them.

Yeyette was surprised though that as she rose she found her hand in Legolas’ and his lips found her own in a kind and tender kiss. She did not pull away or even think to but rather allowed herself to forget all she harboured against him. Balin, the elder of the dwarves, led them to a chamber at the end of rune-carved corridor and they shambled inside on weary feet.

Still in her riding clothes, the princess removed her belt and hung it upon a chair. She stretched her arms with a yawn as she kicked off her boots and listened as the prince shuffle around behind her. She recalled the unexpected kiss and wondered if it was the dwarvish ale, though she could not say who it was affecting more.

“Yeyette,” Her husband spoke her name and she turned to him as he leaned down so that his face was even with hers, “Are we still trying?”

She had not the words to answer his question and instead pressed her lips to his, feeling a smile form across his own. He took her hand and reluctantly parted from her mouth, guiding her with an airy glow in his to the wide bed against the wall. It was small but wide and he pulled her down onto it as he lowered himself upon the mattress.

His lips found her throat and she brushed her fingers up his neck and through his hair, all thoughts slowly drifting away. His pale blond strands would have brought to mind Thranduil but she could not focus on anything but Legolas. All that she had given up long ago as wishful had swept her up so suddenly that she was sure it was a dream.

Yeyette drew herself closer to her husband and he welcomed her warmly, consummating the vows they had sworn so long ago.


	13. Return to Mirkwood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Legolas and Olynna return to Mirkwood uncertain of the future.

The royal couple spent a week in Erebor before they reluctantly departed on their return to Mirkwood. For Yeyette, it was the closest to home she had felt since she had married into the family of silver elves. Every day, Legolas had shown her some new corridor of the Mountain and she grew more use to him. He was no longer a mere placeholder in her bed. They had also met with Thorin and his council daily and by the day of their departure, a deal had been brokered between the feuding kingdoms.

They mounted their horses with a treaty in their possession and several gifts forged by the generous dwarves in a show of their new friendship. Yeyette was most proud of the choker forged for her by the king himself; a line of flawless garnets set in silver. They were impatient to be on the road once more but reluctant to return to the home they had left behind them in Mirkwood. Their ride was silent but not unpleasantly so. Merely it was a peaceful meditation of a pair newly united and unsure of the future of their relationship. The princess was sure Legolas was as anxious as her over their return to the elven kingdom.

She felt terrible; as terrible as she had when she had first lain with Thranduil in the forest clearing. Legolas may have committed his own sins but not so unsanctified as hers. Even as she reminded herself of his misdeed, she could not help but wonder if she were the guiltier of the two. She had betrayed both her husband and the king and there was no way of reconciling her sins in her mind. _Why had she let herself fall into such a dreadful trap?_

The gates of Mirkwood were an unwelcomed sight as they sent through her another wave of guilt and she knew she could not avoid the truth for long. Whether or not she wanted Thranduil to know of the state of her marriage, she would need to see him that night if there was any hope of holding onto him in any way. It would placate him and her own thoughts at once, enough for her to figure out what to do next.

Legolas helped her down from her horse as gallantly as any prince she had heard of in her childhood and he lent her his arm as he led her through the doors of the palace. When he released her elbow to take her hand instead as they walked the corridors she was surprised, though she could not bring herself to pull away. It had taken them longer on their journey home and so the hour was late and the halls nearly empty but for servants. She could not help a smile despite the anxiety eating away at her chest and she let him guide her to their chamber.

“I should see my father,” Legolas stated grimly as he unclasped the pin of his cloak, “But I haven’t the energy to do so tonight.”

 _Nor do I,_ though Yeyette as she looked away in guilt.

“But I can only imagine how happy he’ll be to see us getting along at last,” He continued speaking as he undressed, his belt undone and his tunic pulled over his blond head as Yeyette too disrobed, “I fear I’ve never made my father very proud…not since my mother passed.”

The princess had not words to give him as she pulled her ankles free of her riding leggings and only returned a sympathetic glance. Her father had died only a year before and she did not fathom the years made any difference in the grief of a child. If anything, it only grew worse.

“I was barely more than an elfling,” His voice had turned reverential as he neared the bed with a groan and stretch, “I loved her more than anything. Anyone. And so did my father…he was different then.”

“Oh,” Yeyette’s undershirt was all that covered her, ending at her thighs and Legolas lowered himself into bed in nothing more than his undershorts. She climbed up beside him and sat against the headboard, setting a hand on his shoulder gently. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. You could not have saved her. No one could,” His eyes closed and his hand found hers, resting atop it warmly, “I was only talking…I cannot speak of it to anyone else.”

Yeyette slid down so that she was lying beside her husband, repositioning his hand in hers as his arm went around her shoulders. His voice was soft as he continued on, “I am sorry, you know? I was a lousy husband to you, I still am…but I don’t want to fail at this. All I’ve ever done is let others down and I don’t want another name to add to that list.”

“I was little better as your wife,” Yeyette admitted as she let her eyes shut, “This day has been long. Let’s not dwell on what we cannot change.”

He tightened his embrace but said nothing more as they listened to each other’s breathing. The princess kept her ears pricked as she waited for his breath to slow and soon his chest moved along with his low snoring. His breath rustled her hair and she stayed in his arms until the dark overwhelmed. She slipped from the bed, careful not to jostle him as she rose and searched for her clothing. Instead, she pulled on a robe with impatience and silently fled through the door.

Yeyette stood before the secret passage and urged herself to pass through it. The same excitement which had previously sparked within her at such a time was now marred by the unyielding shame rising in her stomach. She lit the lantern and passed into the black corridor, her fingers trailing along the wall as she walked slowly forward. Every turned spiked her anxiety and the mixture of eagerness and reluctance made it hard to think.

At the end of the winding passage, she knocked on the door and it opened more swiftly than she had expected. Thranduil seemed to have been waiting for her in little more than his underclothes with not even his robe to hide his lithe form. He smiled as he took her hand and welcomed her in, guiding her into the chamber and she tried to return the gesture.

“Yeyette,” His voice was pleasant and warm but little comfort to her roiling nerves, “I had thought you returned,” He pulled her down onto the bed beside him as he sat on the edge before placing an affectionate kiss on her cheek, “How was your visit to the Mountain?”

“Very nice,” She assured him, the only truth she could tell him, “The dwarves are wonderfully gracious hosts.”

“And my son? How was he?” His question set her spine rigid, “I do wonder why he insisted upon your company.”

It was her chance to confess to him. He had assured her before that she was free to act the wife but she still felt as though he would be hurt. “The dwarves are fond of the Niqeth,” She said instead, “King Thorin said he had known my father.”

“Mmm…he did,” Thranduil did not seem to notice her evasive answer, “And the Niqeth have always been a rather unique race of elves.”

“Perhaps to Mirkwoodians,” She kidded in turn, swallowing he reservations. She tightened her hold on his hand without thinking. She had missed him more than she thought, “So what were you up to during my absence?”

“Painfully little” He replied as he kissed her cheek once more and pulled forth one of her curls with his free hand, “It is rather tedious around here without a princess to keep me busy.”

“Oh, I can imagine,” A genuine smile graced her lips at last as she turned her lips to his and pressed them to his firmly before pulling back, “A princess must tend to her duties.”

Yeyette kissed him again and for a moment forgot about all that had troubled her on her way to his chamber. Even though she had been gone from Thranduil for so long, it was as if she had not been away for a moment. Beside him, with her hand in his, it felt as if all were in order and nothing could possibly be so wrong.


	14. Coup de Grace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeyette finds herself at an impasse.

Yeyette was trapped. She had no one to blame but herself and there was nothing she could do to break herself free. She was entirely helpless. Sleeping in the same bed as Legolas, she could not keep herself from him as their marriage had blossomed. The king seemed to be everywhere and she had been unable to withhold herself from their secret meetings. She had felt herself slipping down the dangerous slope and yet she could not keep herself from the descent.

One month. Two. The time had passed so quickly she could not count the days. Among her lurid affairs, she had been buried under a mountain of council work. Each session was made even more torturous as her betrayal burned deeper every time she found herself with Legolas or Thranduil. Her seat was beside her husband but her lover looked to her with a less than subtle leer. It was plain to her that the king knew of all that had transpired in Erebor and yet he did not seem to care. It would not have been hard to guess as Legolas held her hand tightly and pecked her cheek so tenderly without regard for anyone else.

The princess felt tainted every morning she woke, but on this day, she felt repulsive. Legolas had left earlier that morning, leaving her with a warm kiss and quiet farewell. Alone in her marital bed, Yeyette stretched her sore back and groaned. She had slept poorly and she could feel it in her bones. Her stomach roiled as she sat up and her chest burned with acid. She was bloated and sickened by the silence which surrounded her. She stood slowly and checked her bed for blood but found nothing. She could think of no other reason for her state and yet there was no sign of her monthly affliction.

She paced to the bath chamber carefully and sat atop the commode but found no blood upon her undergarments. Her stomach flipped again and she rose frantically, turning and retching into the bowl of the toilet. Her insides tore painfully as she vomited and her muscles weakened as she bent further over the seat. She must have eaten something or…the mere thought of food had her throwing up even more.

 _When had she last bled?_ Her mind returned to her bloated figure and she delicately touched her agonized stomach. It was rounder but not noticeably so and her breasts were tender as the brushed against the fabric of her sleeping gown. Her head spun as she considered the possibility and tried to count the weeks. She was stunned that she could not keep track and once more found herself retching into the commode though little was left but the lining of her stomach.

Yeyette stood unsteadily and staggered back into the bedchamber, wiping her mouth as she sat before her vanity mirror. Her cheeks were flushed even her face seemed to be bloated. _What was she going to do?_ A child. She was not ready to be a mother; she was only just learning to be a wife… She did not even know if her husband was the father.

She let her head fall into her hands, fighting the urge to sob as she had many times in that very spot. There was nothing she could do for it and tears would be even more useless. She did not know if she had the spirit to rid herself of the child and she knew she could not keep the truth from Thranduil or Legolas. Sooner or later, they would notice the changes and both would assume themselves to be the sire. She had done more than doom herself but her child too.

She heard the door open and her chest lurched, a wave of relief washing over her as she turned to find Enid entering quietly. The maid balanced a tray in her arms and despite her morning sickness, Yeyette found her mouth watering at the sight of the immaculate breakfast.

“Oh, Enid, thank you,” Yeyette found her voice at last, clearing her dry throat, “And good morning.”

“My lady,” The servant set down the tray and looked to the princess curiously, “Are you well?”

“As well as I can be,” Yeyette answered evasively, keeping her eyes away from Enid’s, “Why?”

“You seem…anxious,” Enid replied and neared the princess to look at her more closely, “Your cheeks are rosy.”

Yeyette ignored her suspicious comments and stood, brushing by the maid to sit before the platter of food. She poured herself a cup of tea, focusing on adding the perfect amount of milk, and further avoiding the piercing gaze of her maid. Enid hovered around her with a concerned grimace as she watched her and the princess returned a sneer as she tasted her tea.

“My lady,” Enid stepped closer to Yeyette, resembling too much the discerning figure of the princess’ mother, Queen Thea, “Tell me what it is that ails you.”

“Enid,” The princess sighed helplessly and gestured for the maid to sit beside her, “If I tell you what it is, you must promise not to tell anyone.”

“Of course, my lady,” Enid’s brow lowered and she sat, “I am yours. I live by your whims and nothing more.”

“Enid, I…” Yeyette could think the words she wanted to say but she was not certain she could speak them, “I—I…I’m pregnant.”

“You’re….what?” Her voice caught and her eyes widened with shock, “A child? Oh, Princess, the Prince will be so happy. How can you be so upset?”

“The prince?” Yeyette cringed and brushed her hand over her hair, “Oh, he will be anything but happy.”

“What do you mean?” The maid took her hand gently and held it in hers, “How could he be displeased by such wonderful news?”

“Oh, you cannot know,” The princess slumped and pulled her hand away to shield her face, “This child…it’s terrible news.”

Yeyette fell into a shameful silence and sulked. Enid sat beside her to confused to offer any comfort as she heard the small sniffles coming from the princess. A royal child should have been a great blessing and the maid could not figure why she could ever be so upset by it. Yeyette continued to cry as Enid could do nothing but rub her shoulders and wait for her to finish. _How was she to ever tell Legolas of her betrayal if she could not even tell her own ladyservant?_

* * *

Yeyette waited all day for her husband to return. She did not attend council and she did not dare tend to her work in her receiving chambers. She merely waited and counted the seconds until she would face her judgment. She could not read or sit still. She had to brace herself for what would come and reconcile herself with the reality that she would lose all she had.

Legolas entered the chamber with a smile just before dinner as Yeyette paced the chamber floor with her hands clasped before her. He looked surprised to find her there but greeted her kindly as he crossed to her, forcing her to stop as he took her hands in his, “What is the matter? Are you ill?”

“I…” She swallowed and tried to collect her wits as she looked back at him, “I need to speak with you, Legolas.”

“Oh?” His brows rose anxiously, “About what?”

“It’s hard to say,” She looked around nervously, pulling away her hands, “Can we sit down?”

“Of course,” He took her hand again and led her to the window seat and already she could see the concern in his pale eyes as she pulled away again, “Are you sure you’re not sick?”

“Please, Legolas,” She pleaded, fear pricking at her neck, “Just let me talk. I need to tell you something.”

“Okay,” He said patiently and waited, watching as she looked to her lap and searched for any semblance of calm. She need to find the right words but there was no right way to tell him this, “Legolas,” She rasped as she looked up at last, forcing her eyes to meet his, “I…I’m pregnant.” It was barely a whisper and she was not even sure he had heard her at first.

“…You’re pregnant?” His mouth fell open before he smiled wondrously, “That’s wonderful, Yeyette.”

“No, it’s not,” She hung her head again and sighed weakly. Her skin was on fire, burning with the shame of what she was to say next, “Please, it’s anything but wonderful.”

“What do you mean?” His voice was confused and his hand went to hers in an effort to calm her, “We’re going to have a child. It’s great.”

“Legolas,” She nearly choked on her own tongue, “I don’t know that _we_ are going to have a child.” His smile broke as she looked up and he shook his head desperately as he tried to understand. “It…It, um, it may not be ours…yours, I mean.”

“But–” He made to argue but was stopped short, suddenly lost as he looked around like a cornered animal, “How can that be? Who else…?” He gulped back his words and she could see the anger slowly brewing behind his eyes as his jaw clenched dangerously, “You slept with another?”

“Look me in the eye and tell me you haven’t,” She challenged him pointedly, “I know about Serene. I could shrug off my own guilt and say you drove me to my own betrayal but I have to take responsibility for what I’ve done. It was my choice, a poor one, but I made it nonetheless.”

“You knew?” His voice had fallen as his anger shaded with shame.

“Of course I knew,” She threw he hands out with exasperation, “I am not so naïve.”

“Yeyette, I’m sorry, I–”

“It’s too late for apologies,” She brushed away his words and bit her lip, “We’re both guilty but I fear I have done much worse than you.”

A silence rose between them as she tore her eyes away from him and waded through her fear and guilt. Legolas was the first to break as he cleared his throat and straightened his back, “Who was it then?” He asked in a low voice, “Which lord did I drive you into the arms of with my disloyalty?”

“Oh, Legolas,” Yeyette cried out and pulled at her hair anxiously, “It’s…I…” She stammered helplessly as she stumbled over her words, “Legolas, it was…Thranduil…your father.”

“My father?!” He nearly shouted as he stood abruptly, rounding on her, “My ow father? Yeyette, how–” He stopped and his face sharpened so that his brows were creased and his mouth set in a tight line, “I cannot believe him! He is disgusting! A fucking snake! And I call him my father?”

“Legolas, please,” She begged as she stood and tried to calm him but he backed away from her, turning for the door, “Where are you going?” She chased after him as he pulled the door open and strode into the corridor.

“To kill my father,” He answered darkly, his eyes ahead of him in determination.

“But, Legolas, please,” She pleaded as she struggled to keep up with him.

“But nothing,” He retorted harshly, “He talked me into this marriage, guilted me into it for all the wrong I’ve done him all these years and then he does this. Seduces my wife? The very woman he betrothed me to…”

“It was both of us,” She insisted, trying to placate him and distract him from his rage.

“Oh, I know,” He growled and she followed him around another corner, finding that they were already before Thranduil’s door, “Please, don’t.”

Legolas ignored her and continued forward, bursting through Thranduil’s door without so much as knocking. Trailing behind him, Yeyette entered to find the king rising from a chair and greeting his son with a cool voice, “Legolas?”

“I am here to kill you,” Legolas seized his father before he could reply, grasping his elbow and trying to force him backwards, “You disgusting excuse for an elf!”

Thranduil struggled with his son, the two of them locked together as Legolas continued to shout, “You fucked my wife!” His eyes were blazing and dark ad he tried to throttle his father.

Yeyette could not merely stand and watch her husband kill the king and so she urged herself forward despite her anxiety. She latched onto Legolas’ arm and tried to wrench him away from his father. As she struggled with him, his elbow came back suddenly and unwittingly crashed into her skull. She could not hang on as agony ripped through her temples and she staggered backwards. Her hand rose to cradle her head but her fingers did not reach her forehead as her legs crumpled beneath her and black seeped across her vision as she fell to the carpet.


	15. Old Vows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeyette is faced with a decision.

As Legolas fought to grasp his father’s throat, he was stopped short of throttling him as his elbow smashed violently and cracked whatever it was behind him. He heard a sudden gasp and the table clattered before a weight collapsed heavily to the floor. The icy realization of what, or rather who, he had struck with his elbow froze him in place. He released Thranduil as his muscles went weak and turned to find Yeyette crumpled upon the floor. Her temple was dark and bruising already, her hair a mess around her head and her limbs lifeless as she sprawled across the carpet.

“Oh no,” The prince dropped to his knees as his voice crackled in his throat and he felt the princess’s head carefully, looking for any sign of life at his touch. As he brought his hand around he could feel her breath lightly on his flesh though he found her pulse to be faint beneath his fingers, “Yeyette.”

He had been angry, more so than he had ever been in his life, but he had never intended this. Whatever her transgression against him, he had never thought she deserved this. If anything, it should have been him lain unconscious upon the floor for all the wrong he had done her. He rubbed her cheek in an effort to rouse her but still garnered no response as Thranduil knelt slowly beside him, looking over her closely with his silver eyes. Legolas bristled at his father’s concern but withheld his wrath at bay.

“Get her to the bed,” His father ordered quietly, red welts deepening on the pale flesh of his neck, “I’ll fetch the healer.”’

“Will she be alright?” Despite himself, Legolas could not but turn to his father’s wisdom in such a dire time, “Won’t she?”

“She should be,” Thranduil answered, smoothing his hair with his lithe fingers. For a moment, Legolas saw a shadow of despair he had never before seen in his father’s stoic features, “Watch her closely. I should not be very long.”

The king left swiftly, a sense of frantic energy to him, or as close to as he had ever been. As the door snapped shut behind him, Legolas brought his arms up under his wife’s motionless body and lifted her carefully from the floor. He carried her over to the feather mattress and set her down lightly, arranging her head atop the pillow with care.

Her tan skin had grown ashen and her curls even more manic than usual. She was even more beautiful in that moment than he had ever seen her but perhaps it was because he was about to lose her. Her curved nose was no longer so uncomely and the roundness of her face graceful. The arches of her thick brows were immaculate and he wished she would open her eyes to reveal her stunning gold irises. He sighed desperately and cursed himself for being so blind to her for so long.

He sat on the edge of the bed and took her hand in his as he hung his head. He could not blame her for finding comfort with another when he had been so cold to her, but he could not be sure he could ever forgive her. He looked at her once more and for the first, he noticed the rounding of her stomach beneath the fabric of her dress. Her muscular figure did not lack the curves of womanhood but he was surprised to see the pregnancy already showing so clearly.

The door opened and roused him from his thoughts as Thranduil entered behind him with the square-headed healer. “Just there, upon the bed,” The king motioned to the princess’ lifless body, “She hit her head.”

Legolas rose and stepped away from the bed to allow the elf to examine Yeyette closer. He watched from beside his father silently and hoped with all his heart that she could be awakened. Both were tense with worry and the chamber was filled with their dread. The healer went about his work and applied a cloth soaked in a heavily scented oil to his patient’s forehead before turning at last to the prince and king.

“She should awaken in a couple days at most,” He explained, though his tone gave little relief, “I cannot see that her condition is very dire. I will be in to check on her again tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” Thranduil bowed his head and Legolas breathed a deep sigh as the healer left and a tense silence overtook the chamber, “Legolas,” The king began as he turned back to his son, “I know I cannot atone for what I did. For betraying you.” He stepped past his son and neared the bed, somberly looking down at Yeyette, “I never meant to fall in love with her.”

“You should never have been in a position to do so,” Legolas countered coldly, watching his father as he stared down at the princess, “I love her, too. Damn you.”

“I know,” Thranduil turned back, at last looking his son in the eyes, “I was unkind to think that you wouldn’t.”

“She’s pregnant,” Legolas said reluctantly, “Yours or mine…I do not know.”

“Pregnant?” Thranduil echoed numbly, “Well, it doesn’t matter who the father is, only that the kingdom believe it to be yours.”

“You would have me accept a child I can never truly know to be mine or my father’s bastard?” Legolas looked away darkly and shook his head.

“You don’t have to do anything,” Thranduil shrugged, “This woman…what have we done to her? What did she do to deserve us? And the child? Even less.”

“I don’t care, though. Whether the child is mine or not,” Legolas admitted after a moment, “But I don’t want you anywhere near it.”

“Legolas,” Thranduil slowly neared his son, his face falling, “You cannot…”

“Either you hand the throne down to me now or I take my wife and find my own life somewhere else.” Legolas interrupted his father’s plea, “I will not be shamed further and I will not have this child grow up a bastard. Rumoured or otherwise.”

“And Yeyette? What if she doesn’t want to go?” Thranduil chanced and the two royal elves looked to the princess, “What then?”

“We will figure it out,” Legolas resigned as he looked to the floor, “Whatever happens, she cannot be with both of us.

* * *

Yeyette was lost in the void for days but the time seemed endless. During her spell of unconsciousness, she did not even dream. All that ever occurred to her was the life growing within her. She felt herself rising at last from the deep black, her head lighter as her worries grew heavier. She deigned to open her eyes and preferred to lay weakly upon the bed she had not recalled resting in. It was only as she hid behind her eyelids that she remembered what had led to this moment.

She opened her eyes slowly. The chamber glowed a dull orange by the light of a single lantern and the canopy above her was familiar but not her own. She turned her head and saw figures sitting nearby in armed chairs by a faintly lit hearth. Not a word passed between the pair and neither moved amid the silence. Her vision cleared at last and the matching silver heads were indeed real.

“Hello?” She croaked before a cough rose in her throat.

The two pale-haired elves turned to look at her in unison. The lither of the two rose and crossed to her, the other looking to the fire. Yeyette’s eyes focused on Legolas as he neared and sat softly beside her, his hand gently touching her cheek as his features remained sullen.

“The baby?” She asked. The thought had never left her mind and it was all she could think to ask about.

“Healthy,” He assured her, “And it’ll be mine. It you’d let me be the father. Even if it truly is not.”

“Thranduil,” She called over he husband’s shoulder as she recalled the identity of the other elf, “What of you?”

“I am not your husband,” He looked back at you from his chair, “Legolas is. Take your child and raise it with all the love I cannot give it.”

“Take it where?” Yeyette wondered as anxiety crawled up her spine.

“Wherever we want, just not here,” Legolas took her hand and smiled weakly.

“And if I don’t want to go?” She asked.

“A king’s mistress. Abandoned princess with a bastard child,” Thranduil intoned blandly, “It’s not really an ideal option, I’d say.”

Yeyette could not speak further as the situation truly sunk in. She could hear the concealed sadness deep in Thranduil’s voice and she could see the desperation in Legolas’s features. She closed her eyes again and rescinded her hand from her husband’s to feel her stomach. Whatever she chose, she would not abandon her child.

* * *

Yeyette asked to be taken back to her chambers shortly after waking. Another request was given to be alone and Legolas left her without protest. She had told him that she need time to think and he seemed to understand, though to her, it appeared he was willing to agree with anything she pleased. She did not remain abed for long and instead sat before the low-burning fireplace, languishing in her troubled thought. _How had it come to this?_

Both king and prince had cornered her like a mouse and look at all they had done to her. She could not deny her part in the tragedy which had unfolded but she had never wanted to marry. Her father had vowed to her that she would never have to. _What was it he had said to her? She was not the kind for marriage. She was like the wolves of the Frost Meadows. She was meant to roam free and unbridled._

Sniffing back another wash of tears at the thought of her father and how she had shamed him, she stood and washed herself with the basin of cold water. She dressed in a grey tunic and dark leggings, leather boots, and a matching belt. She filled her pack with all she thought dear and draped her cloak over her shoulders. She felt weak but she was strong enough for this. She strapped her sword to her belt and tucked her knives into her pack, hoping she would not need them.

Lastly, she took the garnet choker she had received in Erebor and hid it carefully among the rest of her belonging she had packed. She slipped from the room without looking back and walked like a whisper through the corridors, her pack slung from her shoulders and her head low. She reached the stale without seeing any other along the way and saddled a horse in the dark. She strapped her pack to the steed and climbed onto its back, taking one final breath before kicking it into motion.

She did not have to choose a father at all. _The only choice there was, was her child._


	16. After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeyette adjusts to life after marriage.

Yeyette swept aside a thick curl from her forehead as she made her way through the trees, her boots digging into the twigs and underbrush. The sun was sinking upon the horizon as the evening approached and set in her a greater eagerness to be home. The scent of pine and maple carried on the breeze as it ruffled the leaves of the forest and she gripped her basket tighter as she climbed across the uneven terrain. Under the cloth, the wicker was filled with berries of all colours; a medley fit for the night’s dessert and a half dozen jars of jam,

Coming into sight of the small cabin, she hoped no trouble had been found in her absence. It had not taken her very long to gather her trove of berries but it never took much time for chaos to ensue. A cloud passed over the setting sun, adding to her sense of foreboding, and she wondered what would greet her upon stepping through the front door. 

The small cabin was shrouded by the looming trees, only to be found by those who knew where to look. Years ago, it had been little more than a crumbling hovel and Yeyette had been alone, pregnant, and afraid. Before her tumultuous labour, she had secured the slanting cabin enough to keep her warm through the winter but it had been a difficult season nonetheless. Over the years, she had fixed the window, found a door, bartered a goat from the nearest village and learned to churn her own butter. Chickens were soon bargained for and she was still as fine a hunter as ever.

The door hung open as she climbed the stairs, each one groaning with her weight. There was little need to keep it closed but she still found herself wondering if all she had left had remained untouched. As she approached the threshold, she was nearly bowled over by a silver-haired elfling who could barely stop upon her short, chubby legs.

“Mama!” The girl stepped back to look at Yeyette before wrapping her arms around her slender leg, “I found a new pet.”

“Oh? And what is it this time?” Yeyette finally escaped the snare of her daughter’s embrace and turned her around, guiding her inside as she set her basket upon the wooden counter.

“This!” The elfling scurried to the table, taking a wooden bowl from atop it and rushing back to the counter. Yeyette peered into the dish and found several garden snails leaving trails of slime along the crater, “This is the king,” The girl pointed to the largest of the creatures, “And this one his wife, well, he wants her to be his wife bus she likes that one better.”

“Oh,” Yeyette raised her brows and turned to open a cupboard, chuckling at the girl’s snail kingdom, “You’ve quite the imagination, dear Manette.”

“But I didn’t think it up, Ma,” Manette protested and placed the bowl beside the cutting board Yeyette set out for her work, “They told me in my dreams.”

“Sure,” Yeyette accepted and nudged the bowl over slightly as she grabbed a knife, “Those little royals may be slow but if you don’t find them another castle, they will surely escape.”

“Oh well,” Manette shrugged and took the bowl back in her hands, nearly dropping it as she reached up to the counter, “They should be free. So long as they are happy.”

“Where’s Twig?” Yeyette looked around as she pulled out a handful of potatoes from beneath the counter, “He was here when I set out.”

“Oh, he saw a squirrel and ran into the forest like a monster,” Manette explained animatedly, “Howling, too.”

“Well, a wolf’s got to eat,” Yeyette grinned and began to chop the spuds, “And so do we. Fetch me an onion.”

With help from the small elfling, Yeyette finished her stew and made a cream for the berries. The family of two ate around the round table; Manette watching her snails in their bowl as Yeyette stared out the window. After, the girl fidgeted through her evening lessons her mother read from a leather-bound book and nearly flew away when dismissed.

Yeyette cleaned up the mess of their meal and listened as her daughter played in her room, talking to her snails here and there. She was telling King Snail he should court Lady Snail despite the other one. Yeyette shook her head at such childhood fantasies though it reminded her of a time she rarely dared to think about.

It was only silence that brought her back from her thoughts and she knew that quiet usually meant trouble with the little girl. Yeyette dried the last plate and placed it in the cupboard, closing it gently before turning to the hallway. She crept on her toes along the wooden slats of the floor and found her daughter’s room empty. Her ears pricked up nervously and she continued past the small chamber, finding Manette in her own, admiring herself in the mirror with a silver and garnet choker around her neck. The metal collar was loose around her small neck but looked remarkable against her pale skin.

“What are you doing?” Yeyette asked sternly, crossing her arms as the girl jumped with surprise.

“Sorry, Ma, I…was only looking for a crown for King Snail and I found this and–” She was nearly biting her tongue for lack of words.

“It’s alright, Manette,” Yeyette assured her daughter as she crossed the room towards her and sat on the bed, patting the mattress beside her and waiting for her daughter to sit beside her, “It’s yours, anyhow. I was only waiting until it fit you properly, but, oh well.” 

Yeyette put her arm around her daughter’s small shoulders and hug her warmly, “Make sure you take care of it. It’s dwarven silver.”

“Dwarven?” Manette felt the metal around her throat with awe, “Wow. Can you tell me the story of the King Under the Mountain again?”

“Of course,” Yeyette smiled and ran her fingers through the long tails of the elfling’s silver hair, “It all began with a dragon…”


	17. Tempus fugit, non autem memoria

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeyette finds her past catching up to her.

Yeyette walked among the labyrinth of evergreen and walnut, weaving her way through the forest as Manette ran ahead with the silver-trimmed wolf she had named Twig. The beast had appeared when she had still be pregnant with the girl and she had not the heart to name it, waiting until her daughter had the utterance to do it herself. The creature reminded her of home, her true home back in the Frost Meadows, and she wished she could bring the elfling to see the snows she had loved in her childhood. Yet she knew that out here was the only place she could live a life of her own.

As they neared the familiar dusting of sticks and flattened soil which led to their home, Yeyette sensed a change in the pine-scented air and the hairs upon her neck stood with foreboding. She inhaled deeply and rushed forward lightly on her toes to grab Manette before she could pass into the clearing just beyond the tree line. She turned the elfling back to her, pushing back a stray silk strand of hair as she knelt to speak to her in a sober tone. Twig halted, his own ears pricked up and rounded to stand by the girl’s side as if he too were listening to her words.

“Manette,” Yeyette began as she held the elfling’s shoulder steadily, “Find somewhere to hide and keep Twig nearby, do you understand?”

“Yes, Mama, but what’s going on?” The girl had yet to hone her own senses and looked around with fear.

“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” Yeyette assured as she pulled her into a hug and pecked her cheek softly, “Just go hide and I’ll find you.”

“Alright, Mama,” The girl’s large golden eyes set to stone as she wiped the fear from her face; she could not tell if that was of her own blood or her father’s, “Promise you’ll come get me.”

“Promise,” Yeyette squeezed her shoulder one last time and stood, watching as Manette led Twig back into the trees.

She braced herself and squared her shoulders as she turned back to look up at the small house waiting just ahead. It was at it was when she had departed and yet there was something there, she could feel it in the fire which flowed through her veins. She took her first steps forward and thought of the sword she had left hidden below her mattress and clutched at the short hunting knife upon her hip. It would have to do.

Her steps were lighter than air as she reached the steps and climbed them with vigilance, glancing through the window before reaching for the door lever. She lifted it silently and pushed inside, the hinges not so much as creaking as she entered with bated breath. Each foot fell with dread upon the slats of the floor and she searched every nook for looming shadows. As it as outside, all was as she had left it but she knew there was something…or someone.

She walked down the hall, unsheathing the hunting blade and gripping it tightly as she turned to look through her bedroom door. Inside a figure stood before the only window, arms crossed behind his back, a dark blue silk robe across his broad shoulders, silver hair curtained his back to his waist, his face to the sunset just outside. Yeyette sighed and replaced the knife in its leather casing and crossed her own arms before her, fighting the urge to flee.

“You found me,” She stated without emotion though she felt her heart strain.

“Did you really think I would not?” Thranduil turned from the window, his silver eyes hazy as he did. It was only as he focused upon her that his pupils shrunk and the usual sternness came to his features.

“I knew you would, I only hoped I’d have a little longer…or at least have had the time to evade you,” She looked away from him as memories washed over her, “What do you want?”

“What I’ve always wanted, Princess,” He replied plainly, “You.”

“I am not a princess anymore. Never was,” She turned away, examining the unraveled hem of her tunic sleeve, “Not truly.”

“Princess or not, you know what I would ask of you.”

“And you should know my answer. Was running off in the middle of the night not enough of one for you?” Her voice was bitter as she kept her back to him, “You must have guards with you for it is easy to surmise that you are still king.”

“A king may travel alone should he wish to,” He insisted and she shook her head darkly, “Indeed I still sit the throne of Mirkwood, though your husband took your lead and fled not long after you.”

“My husband? Your son,” She turned back on her heel and grimaced, “And you would have me return? As what? An abandoned princess? Shamed consort? Your mistress? I prefer the wild.”

“Yes, the wilderness seems to treat you well, you’re as beautiful as the day I first laid eyes on you,” He rounded the bed and neared, causing her to back away, “I would have you as my queen. I have looked for you every day since your disappearance. I care not what my subjects think nor any other. You would be my queen but more importantly, my love.”

“It cannot be so,” She knew it was little more than fool’s dream, “You know it as well as I.”

“I only know that I need you and I care not how I have you,” He pleaded as he reached out and she once more stepped away from him, “I would stay here, even.”

“I would not have you,” She said harshly, “And I will not go.”

“Yeyette, please,” His voice was thin and close to breaking, “I love you. I cannot live without you. Please–”

A clatter interrupted his words from the other room and the scratch of claws upon the floor was followed by the hollow crash of a wooden bowl. She frowned and turned, rushing into the kitchen where Twig bristled and growled and Manette stood beside him, frantically trying to calm the beast.

“What are you doing? I told you to hide,” Yeyette reprimanded and snapped her fingers at the wolf who ceased his rumbling in an instant, “Manette, you cannot be here.”

“Who is that?” The elfling interrupted her mother and she sensed the tall figure of Thranduil as he waited silently in the hallway.

“No one you need worry about,” Yeyette insisted as she tried to keep the girl hidden from the silver king, “Just go outside and wait for me.”

“Wait,” Thranduil stepped forward from the shadows and shouldered his way into the kitchen, his eyes fixed upon the little girl who, at the sight of him, clung to her mother’s leg, “Is that…your child? Our–?

“No, not ours,” Yeyette hissed and set her hand protectively on the girl’s pale head, “Just leave us alone.”

“Oh, Yeyette,” The king dropped to his knees, a sight she had never thought to see, and stared at Manette with awe, “Ours or not, she is of my blood.”

“Mama,” Manette tugged at her belt and Yeyette could not think for the pounding in her chest.

“It’s alright, he won’t hurt you,” She calmed the elfling but kept hold of her.

“Please, let me see the girl,” Thranduil’s voice cracked and a tear glimmered down his cheek, “Oh, she has your eyes, Princess.”

“Princess?” Manette looked to her mother with awe and confusion.

“Go!” Yeyette stepped forward, pushing her daughter behind her as Thranduil stood with shock, “I said go! Now! She will never be yours.”

Despite herself, she was crying too and she could not bear that merely the sight of him had brought back to her every single emotion which had roiled in her all those years ago. In that instant, it was as if she had never left and yet she could not dream of returning to the life she had forsaken. She could not, she knew. She would be living a lie and a life tainted by her own sins. She shoved Thranduil’s chest in her distress; all the passion she had harboured for the king was laced with the anger of their betrayal.

“Go, go, go!” She sobbed as she beat on his chest, “Go, please!”

Thranduil caught her hands and looked down at her, his face shadowed with hurt as he glanced over her head at the elfling huddled by the counter. Twig was shaken from his calm and once more began to growl as he closed in at Yeyette’s side and the king released her so that he was not at the beast’s teeth. Slowly he back away until he stood before the door, his eyes on Yeyette as he wiped his eyes dry.

“Princess,” He begged sonorously, “Yeyette.”

“I said go,” It was near a whisper but more fearsome than her shouts.

Thranduil bowed his head and turned slowly, reluctantly, and stepped into the dimming sunlight. The orange hues of the evening should have been warm on his skin but all he felt was ice in his veins. Yeyette watched as he descended the steps with quiet footfalls and as he disappeared into the treeline, her legs crumpled beneath her and she sunk into a blubbering heap upon the floor. Manette, despite her confusion, neared her mother and hugged her with comforting coos as the wolf took up vigil in the doorway, guarding against the return of the elven king.


	18. Not the End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thranduil visits the Frost Meadows.

Thranduil could barely recall how he had found his way out of the forest. His elk had been waiting where he had left him and he wiped away the welling of tears in his eyes as he mounted the creature. It was all he had left. The only living beast to offer comfort to the elven king when all others had run away. Swaying with the easy movement of the elk, he found his way back to the inn from which he had skirted away in the early morning, tracking the path of his lost lover.

He could not blame her for reacting as she had but in a moment of raw emotion, he had been surprised at himself. It had been long since he had felt such overwhelming chaos within. She had sparked in him those years before the remnants of passions which had been shredded at the loss of his first love and her flight had buried them once more. Yet seeing the elfling, who in his heart he could not deny as his own, even if blood would say otherwise, it had thrown him into a whirlwind. 

His heart did not cease its racing even as he greeted the frantic guards who halted at his sudden arrival and looked to each other in confusion. They had likely spent their day searching out their missing liege and did not so much as expect him to come riding up so lackadaisically. 

He dismounted and entered the tavern without a word, passing the drunkards and guests within before climbing the stairs to his chambers. The venue was dingy and he had brushed away the protests of his escort at the state of the place, knowing he would spend little time there. He had chosen it because he had sensed her presence beyond the trees not because he sought a clean bed or hot bath. Sitting heavily on the sagging mattress, he looked down at his long legs, his leather boots still dirty with forest growth. Kicking it off, he closed his eyes and let his head fall into his hands.

He would not give up so easily, he could not. He had looked for years, for traces of Yeyette and those of his son but both had eluded him. It was with disbelief that he had stumbled upon her little forest home hidden between the evergreens and he had awaited her with the certainty that she would never appear. Yet when he had laid eyes upon her it was as if she were the only thing which existed in the world. _And the elfling, how he could not stop thinking about her._

Suddenly, he stood with a new sense of resolve though he had little inkling of what to do next, he only knew he had to do something. Pacing the floor for a moment, he stopped before the cracked mirror which presented a warped reflection of his silver eyes. There was not much hope in the plan blooming inside his mind but it was all he had and he refused to slink home to Mirkwood just yet. A long road stretched before him and the only one he could see which led to Yeyete.

* * *

Thick sheets of snow formed hills atop those naturally curved over the earth, weighing down the hooves of horse and elk alike. Four elven guards rode alongside Thranduil as he crested the broadest of the slopes and he peered out over the pristine hinterland of the Frost Meadows. The wrought iron and oaken gates stood starkly in the distant, barely visible under the blankets of snow upon them. The last time he had spied the walls of the elven kingdom he had come to speak of the very same princess, though now the circumstances were not so appealing.

He expected little fanfare and even less welcome as he set off down the hillside, his elk carefully plunging its hooves into the endless snow. One wrong step and rider and steed would find themselves overturned, or even buried. While summer glowed in those other elven kingdoms of Middle Earth, the Frost Meadows was in the midst of their harshest and longest winter. It was news across the land that the snows had not melted since the old king had died.

Horns blasted as the arrival of the Mirkwood king was noticed and the tower guards harried to stand their posts, looking down on the five riders below. Thranduil brought his elk to a halt and looked up implacably as his banner-bearer cleared his throat.

“Thranduil Opherion, King of Mirkwood, seeks entrance to the kingdom of the Frost Meadows and an audience with King Ciaran of the Niqeth.”

Chatter ensued upon the ramparts before a rusted helmet peeked over the side and examined the party of pale elves. “King Thranduil of Mirkwood may enter but no audience will be given.”

“King Ciaran cannot refuse court to an ally,” The banner-holder, Eris, called up and Thranduil waved away more of his words.

“We will accept entrance and barter for nothing more.” Thranduil’s elk turned in its track impatiently, “It is cold and the snows deep. We are want to be under a roof more than anything.”

“Then you may enter,” The rusty-helmed guard replied gruffly, “One night and then you return to whence you came.”

“My king,” One of Thranduil’s guard, Orin began to speak but was silenced by his leige’s silver eyes piercing him.

“News of our arrival will not see us without visitors,” Thranduil assured as the great wheels of the gate began to turn and the doors slowly creaked inward, “The king must keep his public grudges strong but behind closed doors, he will tend to his duties.”

Orin silenced and the rest of the elven guard regained their placid expressions, only want to be done with the fool’s journey of their king. They had trekked across river and ice, grass and snow, plain and mountain, and all for a missing princess with no desire to be found. Thranduil had not told them of his meeting with Yeyette and they did not guess at it; they were bound to serve him and not ask questions.

The Mirkwood king was led through the gate with his five standard-bearers, the rusty-armoured elf introducing himself as Cullen before leading them through the frozen streets of the kingdom. The Frost Meadows were rustic compared to the splendor of Mirkwood but Thranduil knew of its hidden beauty; when the snow would melt away, it could rival even his own kingdom. Even with the winter, it had a certain touch of charm.

As his other visits, he was shown to the chambers of royal guests in the king’s own ancient abode; a castle bastioned with iron and silver and guarded by several wrought statues of snarling wolves. His escort was shown to their own lesser rooms and the king was at last, left on his own to await the calling of those who had sworn not to see him. 

Ciaran was Bernard’s son  and he would come; he would likely be angry, but he was just as stubborn. So, the king draped one leg over the other on a cushioned chair and waited for another king to appear at his door.

Patience had often flown from him when it was needed but in dire times, it always served as his stronghold. Hours after he had planted himself in his seat and leaned his elbow against the carved arm of the chair, a knock came at his door and he stood, calling for entrance of his guest. However, it was not the king of the Niqeth who appeared before him but the Dowager Queen, her honey silk hair pinned back primly as she wore a black gown of mourning, though her husband had been dead for years now.

“Queen Thea, I–” He began to greet her but his words were cut off as she quickly closed the distance between them and her hand struck his cheeks sharply. He stood silent and passive, knowing he deserved much and more than her strike.

“You,” She scowled and her famed elven beauty showed the lines of bitterness and age alike, “My daughter goes missing and I hear nothing from you but a line of ink.” She pulled forth the crumpled strip of parchment from her sleeve, his broken wax seal hung from it still and he surmised she had been holding onto it for as long as Yeyette had been gone, “You told me my daughter would be safe in your kingdom.”

“I did,” Thranduil looked down guiltily and braced himself for another blow that did not come, “I know any apology I give is not enough to atone for the wrongs I have done you and your kingdom, but–”

The silver king was interrupted once more as the door whipped open behind Queen Thea and a familiar angry face appeared before him. Thranduil was barely able to marvel at Ciaran’s resemblance to his father before the Niqeth’s brawny fist took him in the same cheek as his mother’s palm. Thranduil kept silent but his eyes watered at the pain as he brought his hand up to hold his face and watched as Thea struggled to control Ciaran, holding him back with whispered words.

“You,” Ciaran growled, he had grown the same beard as his father since they last saw one another; the Niqeth were the only elves who sported such facial hair, “You drove my sister away! What did you do to her?”

“Before you feed us some pathetic lie, I will have you know we heard elsewise from your very son,” Thea turned back to Thranduil as she kept her hand on Ciaran’s, “Legolas at least had the grace to tell us in person of Yeyette’s disappearance…though I suspect he withheld some significant information of the reasons for it.”

“Legolas?” Thranduil choked out; he had found no trail of his son in all those years since he had fled, “Is he here?”

“He came and went,” Ciaran waved his hand in the air, “We asked if he was going to look for her but all he said was he was merely looking to get away from you.”

“Our own scouts have been searching for her, of course,” Thea intoned solemnly, “But it would seem she does not wish to be found.” Tears rose to the queen’s eyes but she held them back as she squared her shoulders, “She is her father’s daughter and she is of her own will.”

“Queen Thea, King Ciaran,” Thranduil began in the meekest tone he could muster, bowing his head slightly, “I come because I have found Yeyette…but I seek your help in bringing her back.”

“You’ve found her?” Thea’s eyes went wide and Ciaran steadied her with and hand on her shoulder as he looked to Thranduil.

“Where would you bring her back to? Mirkwood? She belongs here with us.”

“If she feels she belongs here, I would bring her here, though I wish her with me. All I can say is she should not remain where she is but she refuses to go home,” Thranduil explained as gently as he could, “She has a daughter now and the elfling is the heir to Mirkwood, as it were.”

“A daughter?” Thea seemed like to faint at the revelations, “I have a granddaughter?”

“You do…but there are things you must know, likely that which my son did not tell you,” Thranduil inhaled and readied himself for what he would say next, “About Yeyette and myself. Her marriage to your son. It is…complicated, but you must know of it if we are to get her back.”

Thea and Ciaran looked to each other with concern before slowly returning their sharp eyes to the Mirkwood king, “Speak,” Thea commanded, “And it better be worth it or you should find yourself in the snow with nothing but your ridiculous silk to keep you warm.”


	19. Hideaway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeyette makes an unexpected discovery.

Yeyette planted her oaken walking stick atop the deep snow, pushing through the tundra as the weight across her back strained her shoulders. Manette hugged her around the neck as she was secured to her mother’s back and the silver-wolf trailed at their heels, strapped to the shoddily-crafted sled which held their packs. She had not brought much for she had been frantic from her meeting with the elvenking and she did not want him to follow her trail a second time.

She had turned a few of their woolen blankets into coats and had bartered lamb-lined boots in a village on their way north. It had cost her coin which she did not have and so she had stolen a merchant’s purse as he lay half-drunk across a tavern table. She cared little but for distance and placing it between her and her past. Whatever crimes she must commit to keep Manette safe rested lightly on her conscience when weighed against the thought of losing her.

She trudged up the broad hillside, coming into view of the rockier mountains which many dared not trek in the best of weather let alone in the midst of winter. Even with her elven toes atop the snow, as weightless as the flakes which fell from the sky, the tundra was difficult to traverse. Once they reached the steeper peaks, she might have to set down the child and let her develop her Niqeth instincts for herself. As it was, Yeyette was in too much of a hurry to think of keeping track of the errant elfling and so she continued on with Twig following in her stead.

“Ma, why did we have to leave?” Manette asked as her mittened hands brushed across Yeyette’s icy scarf, “And why did we come here? It’s cold.”

“Manette, I told you, many times, we were never going to stay in the forest forever,” She argued as she carefully walked atop the snowy surface, “Since you were first able to hear me, I warned you. Besides, you should be happy. Not many travel so far in their lifetime.”

“But it’s cold,” She repeated her complaint in a whine, “I don’t like it.”

“You must learn to like it,” Yeyette replied dully, “You are Niqeth and you must learn to live as such.”

“Niqeth?” The girl repeated, “Was I always Niqeth?”

“Of course you were, I told you before I come from the Frost Meadows and thus you do, too,” She explained as she continued on, keeping upright as she began the descent on the other side of the hill, “Your blood binds you to this land.”

“This land?” Yeyette felt the elfling looking around, “It’s just snow.”

“ _Here_ it is, but not everywhere,” Yeyette turned to check on Twig as he pulled the sled with little effort; he must have had the blood of a snow wolf in him, “Maybe one day I’ll show you the city. But for now, we must go to the Mountains.”

“Are there dwarves in these Mountains? Like the ones you told me about?” Manette asked wondrously.

“Not here,” Yeyette admitted greyly, “But maybe one day I’ll show you that mountain, too. But it is very far away from here.”

“Maybe, maybe, maybe,” The girl grumbled, “One day.”

“Or when you are older and grown up, you can find it yourself,” Yeyette offered though the prospect scared her, “You will be as old as me and you can go wherever you want.”

“Really? Anywhere?” Manette asked before falling silent as she thought, “Where did the silver elf come from? He must have a pretty home.”

“Silver elf,” Yeyette echoed darkly and scowled, “That silver elf comes from somewhere you should never go…I don’t want you to speak of him anymore, Manette. Just forget him.”

“But why? He seemed nice,” She was still confused by the episode back in their cabin and Yeyette refused to give her any answers.

“Twig didn’t think so and I trust his wolfish intuition,” Yeyette argued as she swallowed back her anxiety, “Now enough talking. We’ve a long day ahead and I don’t need your tongue freezing to your teeth.”

* * *

It had been a long time since Yeyette had been to the Frost Meadows but she was raised there and while the winter had always been severe, it had not been this bitter. Her cheeks were raw despite the scarf wrapped around her head and she was glad that she had given Manette the thicker of the garments. Twig, to her surprise, was unfazed by the elements and the sled had made it in one piece up the mountainous slope.

Not many knew these parts of the Mountains and many would not dare to traverse them. When she had been little older than Manette, Yeyette had found an ancient map of the range and its inner tunnels and had explored them in secret with her sister until her father had discovered their secret excursions. King Bernard had made them promise never to go to the Mountains again and she had reluctantly sworn to him to refrain from the temptation; but he was dead now and she was not a princess anymore.

She led Manette into a dark cove hidden inside the second highest of the peaks, halfway down its height and concealed by a twisted brush of branches. It was not one she knew very well and she was unsure she had even been to it before, but as her memory served, a hot spring rested nearby and would do well for them if they were to remain there.

Manette kept close to the entrance as her mother helped the wolf drag the sled inside and she searched around the packs in the dim. She broke branch from the brush outside and wrapped the end in a square torn from her scarf before lighting her makeshift torch. Yeyette handed her daughter a slice of lembas as she began to search the crevices of the cave chamber and set the torch between two rocks so that it stood and lit a small glow in the rear. A tunnel led from the east wall and Yeyette said they would explore it the next day after they rested and sat with a piece of lembas herself, pulling her daughter close to her side.

* * *

“It’s dark,” Manette quivered as her mother led her through the Mountain tunnels, “Mama, please.”

“Manette,” Yeyette stopped and knelt beside her daughter, “You’ve never minded the dark before…how many nights did I find you down at the river when you weren’t suppose to be?”

“And cold,” She grumbled as she rubbed her nose, “And…strange.” The elfling looked around at the grim mountain walls, “Why did we have to leave?”

“I already explained, Manette,” Yeyette stood with exasperation and took her daughter’s hand, guiding her forward, “Stay close to Twig and all will be well. Besides, there isn’t anything here that’s going to hurt you.”

The aforementioned wolf walked before them, his nose brushing across the ground as he explored the plethora of foreign scents. The beast seemed the only one fond of the Mountains and Yeyette felt ever more irritated by her daughter’s questions and complaints. She loved the girl, of course she did, but she had done her wrong by not bringing her sooner to the Frost Meadows.

A gust of warm air met them as they turned the next corner, the sides of the tunnel no longer glassy with ice but dewy with condensation. The wolf circled back to walk behind the elves as his fur was glazed with the damp and he seemed less interested in seeking out whatever trail he had been following. Yeyette touched the wet stone of the walls and looked to the end of the tunnel where a dim light glowed.

“A hot spring,” She explained to her daughter, “I was right.”

“Hot spring?” The girl echoed with curiosity, “Is that bad?”

“No, no, it’s good,” Yeyette assured the elfling, “It means we can bathe…and it will be nice and warm.”

“Oh,” Manette replied in a single syllable as they continued on, seemingly unexcited by the prospect of a hot bath despite her former gripes.

“It should be nice to get the dirt out of your hair,” Yeyette pulled a loose strand of her daughter’s hair which peeked out from beneath her wool cap, “Any longer and you’d have hair as dark as mine.”

Manette stuck out her tongue at her mother and pulled away her silver hair, examining the slightly tinged strands. “It’s not that bad,” She protested though her voice was less than certain, “Is it?”

“I’m only teasing,” Yeyette assured her with chuckle which caught in her throat as her ears pricked at an unknown presence.

She had not heard nor seen anything but she felt a sudden energy nearby, a peculiar tingle mixed in with the balmy haze of the hot spring. Yeyette’s hold on her daughter’s hand tightened and the girl went rigid as both stopped in place and Twig began the low rumble which foretold of danger. Manette looked to her mother who swallowed and brought her finger to her lips as she tried to calm her.

Keeping her hand twined through the elfling’s, Yeyette slowly continued forward as Twig once more took the lead, his nose drawing him on. The wolf’s growling turned to snarling as he neared the corner and as he rounded it, he lunged and a struggle could be heard in the next chamber. Yeyette signaled for Manette to stay where she was as she released her hand and rushed forward, drawing the ancestral sword strapped across her hip.

Sprinting into the round chamber that housed the hot spring, she came upon the wolf as he rolled a figure in the dirt. The great cluster of grey fur was half-entwined with a cloaked figure whose silver-hair had come uncovered in the attack. Yeyette held her blade at the ready as her heart pattered furiously and she was poised to reprimand the elvenking for following her once more, her hopes dying as she found it impossible to evade her past.

“Twig,” She called to the wolf, “Back.” The beast struggled out of the arms of his opponent as he obeyed her barreling voice but continued to growl as he kept close to silver haired elf as he sat up and pushed aside his tangled locks, revealing a face she had not expected.

“Yeyette?” Legolas looked stunned as he sat sprawled across the ground, “Is that really you?”

She looked him over as she kept her distance, the rumble of the wolf’s wariness filling the cavern. His pale eyes were dull and distant and his appearance much sloppier than she had ever seen. His blonde hair was no longer flawlessly smooth but ratty and unkempt, his porcelain skin was darkened by mountain dirt, and his clothing was tattered and frayed, though his bow remained as polished as ever. Yeyette could tell just by the sight of him that he had been in the tunnels for a long time, almost too long.

“It is,” She kept from greeting him with same harshness she had done his father; if he was not maddened from isolation already, he would be shortly enough, “Are you alright, Legolas?”

“Me, I’m…” His voice trailed off as looked down at himself and cleared his throat, trying to brush away the dust on his cloak before pushing himself to his feet, “I like to come here, to the spring.” He spoke in a thin, ill-used voice, “There’s light here.”

Yeyette looked around at the chamber for the first time, the pool of steaming water reflecting the rays of light which came in through a hole in the mountain top; a natural window which many would have said was built by the gods. She looked back to her husband and withheld a sigh of pity, slowly nearing him as she placed her sword back in its sheath.

“How long have you been here?” She asked cautiously, as his eyes stayed fixated on the streaming light.

“Since you left…I went to tell your family you were gone. Truly, I was hoping you had gone home and I would find you,” He finally looked back to her, his eyes glimmering with unshed tears, “But I didn’t…and I knew I couldn’t. I came here because…I had nowhere else to go and I remember you talking about the mountains and—Why are you here?”

“I guess you could say I’ve nowhere to go, either,” She admitted softly and she gave a weak smile, “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“Well, you needn’t worry about me, Yeyette,” He said as he sniffed back his tears, “I know you’re not here for me. I forwent that chance long ago. I know now that I…” His voice petered out again and he looked at his filthy boots, “I just wanted to be alone. I didn’t want to be near him.”

“Legolas, I’m sorry,” Her chest filled with despair as she saw the complete surrender in his eyes, “I think there’s someone you should meet.”

“What?” He looked around suddenly, his eyes falling on the wolf with renewed fear.

“Manette,” Yeyette called over her shoulder, “It’s alright. It is only a friend.”

“Friend?” Legolas smiled for the first as small footsteps neared from the corridor.

“Manette, this is Legolas,” Yeyette reached out for her daughter and pulled her close, the elfling fearful as she entered, “He’s an old friend. Legolas, this is Manette.”

“Manette?” As Legolas eyes the elfling with surprise, a remnant of his old veneer returned and he bowed to her, “It is lovely to meet you…though I fear I am quite a mess.” He pulled at his aged cloak and chewed his lip, “Forgive me.”

The girl merely nodded and returned a nervous smiled, clinging to her mother as she stared up at the ragged elf.

“Legolas, would you like to share our hearth for the night?” Yeyette was unsure of the proposition but fell too guilty to leave him to his madness, “We have lembas and some herbs we found growing with the mountain. It’ll be a thin broth but it’s better than nothing.”

“I, uh,” Legolas looked from mother to daughter and she could see the thoughts swirling within, “Certainly, I could not refuse such a lovely offer…but I must be off by the morning, you understand?”

“We do,” Yeyette accepted daintily, “Of course, you’ll have lembas for the road as well, won’t you?”

“Ever generous, Yeyette,” He bowed his head as tears suddenly returned to his eyes, “Thank you.”

“Come on then,” Yeyette waved aside his gratuity, “We’ll have our baths tomorrow, Manette,” She turned her daughter around and Legolas slowly followed, keeping his distance from the bristling wolf, “And Twig, that’s enough.” She warned as she led the odd troupe back to the corridor, bracing herself for a night with her husband.


	20. Waking Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeyette stands at a crossroads of past and future.

Yeyette led her husband to the front of the cave in silence, her daughter clinging to her hand as she peeked around at the strange elf. Likely she wondered how these elves with the same icy hair as her own kept finding them and the former princess thanked the fates that the elfling was still too young to arrive at a logical conclusion. Only Twig made noise as they continued on, his nose huffing through the mountain dirt as he sniffed for prey.

Upon coming upon the round stone chamber where they had made camp the previous night, Yeyette asked Manette to fill the pit with sticks as she turned back to Legolas who looked around with his twitching eyes. In Mirkwood, he had never displayed a hint of nerves or fear and now he seemed consumed by it. Though, since his discovery, he had appeared to regain a measure of his former control. His shoulders were no longer so deeply hunched and his head was held higher than before.

“Legolas, are you sure you’re alright?” She asked quietly as she listened to her daughter gathering sticks from the pile.

“Fine,” He insisted and his eyes focused on her, “I’m happy to see you…alive. And the elfling,” His gaze strayed over her shoulder for a moment before flicking back, “She’s beautiful.”

“Thank you,” Yeyette accepted gently, “You will stay for dinner? Then we can, uh, talk.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” He answered and nodded rabidly, “I’ve not had many to break bread with in a rather long time.”

Yeyete could find no response at the grimness of his words and instead, laid a hand lightly upon his shoulder before releasing him and turning to check on Manette. The girl had done as she was told and waited anxiously for her mother as she stared meekly across at Legolas. Yeyette neared and knelt beside the pit and her daughter as she stirred around in her pocket for flint, the elfling hovering closely.

“Look, Manette,” She began softly, “Legolas is an old friend. A good friend who’s been lonely for a very long time,” She struck sparks across the pile of bark, “So you need to be nice to him, alright?”

“Of course, Mama,” She replied and looked again at the slender blond elf as he examined the handle of his bow, “Why is he all the way up here?”

“He is hiding…like us,” The pit caught and Yeyette turned fully to her daughter, keeping level with her, “There is much I need to tell you but I can’t. Not yet. I know it’s been hard coming here and leaving all that we had but we had to. To stay safe. Do you understand?”

“But you will tell me? One day?” The girl’s golden eyes glowed with curiosity.

“I promise, Manette,” Yeyette clutched her daughter’s arms and held her firmly, “All that I do is to protect you. I love you more than anything, all I ask is that you trust me.”

“I love you too, Mama,” Manette echoed as she lifted her arms and slung her arms around her mother’s shoulders, drawing her into a warm embrace, “I trust you.”

* * *

The meal between the three elves was wholly uneventful. Manette managed a few shy words to Legolas, her curiosity growing over the evening, and Yeyette sat anxiously as she chewed on her lembas. At last, the little girl was overcome by the fatigue of the day and fell asleep under her mother’s cloak, just beside the low-burning pit. At the realization, husband and wife looked to each other in recognition.

“Why are you here?” Legolas asked through the dim.

“The same as you, to get away,” Yeyette replied as she examined her hand, “But I know how to survive here. Legolas,” She looked up pleadingly, “You cannot stay here.”

“Or I’ll go mad?” He finished precariously, “I know. I can feel it. The cold and the mountains…it gets inside of you.”

“So, I don’t have to fight to get you out?” She stared at him worriedly.

“Not this time,” He ascended and looked around the cave, “If you hadn’t found me today, well, I fear I wouldn’t last many more.”

“How did you even get here?” She wondered aloud.

“I went first to the capital to see your mother and tell her you were gone…and I thought maybe you’d be there too,” He shrugged and sighed, “After, I didn’t know where to go and I found my way here. I knew my father could never find me here…if he ever thought to come looking.”

Yeyette was tempted to reveal how Thranduil had found her but swallowed back the urge, instead clearing her throat.

“I was scared, Legolas,” She admitted as she looked over at the slumbering Manette, “For her. I didn’t want her to grow up with you hating her because of my mistake. I couldn’t do that to her, I know how cruel that pain can be.”

“I never questioned why you went,” Yeyette glanced back to Legolas as he watched her daughter and she saw in him a shadow of the past. In the hours since they had met, she had noticed how he slowly reverted to who he had been before, “You had every right. I accepted my mistake long ago, Yeyette. What I did to you…I never gave you a chance, so why should I expect you to?”

“What happened then, it’s all behind us now, Legolas,” She spoke as tears pricked at her eyes, “Forgive yourself as I have forgiven you.”

“I am trying,” He gritted out as his pale irises searched the shadows, “I will but I need to get out of here first. And you should, too. You can’t raise–” His voice caught as his gaze returned to Manette, “Your daughter here. She deserves more than this…your mother, you could go to her. When I spoke to her, she was desperate and–”

“I have disgraced her and all my kin,” Yeyette argued glumly, “Maybe when Manette is older but I don’t want her to have to deal with that yet. Knowing everything.”

“She will have to, one day,” Legolas’ words were suggestive but not overbearing, “But it is not my place to make that decision.”

“What about you? Where will you go?” Yeyette asked, changing the subject before her tears fell.

“I don’t know but I know where I won’t go,” He almost smiled despite the still air and Yeyette’s lips twitched.

“Rivendell,” She breathed as the thought came to her, “My sister, Analee, she’s there. And Elrond, he’s never one to turn away an elf.”

“Hmm, perhaps,” His eyes narrowed as he thought, “My father…”

“Won’t look there and besides Elrond’s never been very fond of him,” Yeyette tilted her head, “We knew that even in the Frost Meadows.”

“I’ll…think about it,” He accepted and rubbed his forehead, “But you think about what I said. About leaving.”

“I will,” The former princess allowed and looked away.

“Anyhow, I should sleep if I am to leave,” Legolas announced as she heard the shifting of dirt, “I’ll be gone before she wakes, don’t you worry. Just…give her this.”

Yeyette looked over as Legolas neared her silently, his hand rifling below his cloak as he stopped before her. He pulled forth a ring of silver so bright it was nearly white and held it out to her as he bent slightly. A large sapphire was set perfectly into the band, framed by pale diamonds, and Sindarin etchings marked the inside of the ring.

“It was my mother’s. It is the only thing I still have of her,” He explained and Yeyette took it with a whispered thank you, “I want Manette to have it. Even if she isn’t mine, it is hers.”

“Legolas, I…” Yeyette tried not to choke on the rising tears as she slowly stood, “Good luck. I hope you find something better. That one day you find what you deserve.”

“You, too, Yeyette,” He smiled for an instant before his lips fell once more, “And her. I know you will take care of her. You done her well so far.”

* * *

Yeyette could not sleep and when Legolas rose to creep out silently in the morning, she did not even pretend to close her eyes. He gave a last brief look over his shoulder before he disappeared towards the mountain face and she wriggled closer to her slumbering daughter. Manette’s breathing was steady, underlined by soft snoring, and her mother laid restless in the lull.

She could not help but relive her conversation with Legolas. He seemed to have accepted that their marriage was over and that Manette was far beyond him. She had seen the regret and love in his eyes even though he had only just met the elfling. Yeyette wondered if perhaps she should have stayed and let him a least try to be a father. But then what of Thranduil? She could never truly believe that he would have just stepped aside and the rivalry between him and his son would merely end.

Yet she had kept the girl from so much and it was all dawning on her so suddenly. She had not even let her meet the rest of her family or to know her homeland. She had instead hidden her in the forest and then swept her away to the frigid mountains to hide like a troll. _Would Yeyette ever let go of her daughter? Ever allow her to go out in the world and know who she truly was?_ Every day she waited to do so made the thought more terrifying and she knew, deep down, that the longer she held off, the less likely she would carry through on it.

The girl stirred as the light of dawn shone dully through the mountain tunnel, leaking in from a distant rocky pass. The dim grey was contrast enough to the pitch black that Yeyette could tell it was time to rise. Yawning as she sat up, she touched Manette’s shoulder lightly until she rolled onto her back and looked up to her mother with sleepy eyes. She smiled as she sat up and looked around, her face dropping with question.

“Where’s Legolas?” She asked as she searched the cavern.

“Sweetie, he had to leave,” Yeyette replied gently as she brushed the hair away from her daughter’s forehead with a single finger, “He wanted to stay but…he could not.”

“Oh,” Manette frowned as she looked at her hands glumly, “I liked him. Even though he was quiet.”

“He liked you too,” Yeyette assured her daughter and reached into her tunic, “So much that he left a gift for you.”

She offered the silver ring to her daughter in the dull glow of the embers of the dwindling fire pit and the girl took it with wonder in her eyes. “For me?” She asked as she slipped the band onto her finger though it hung much to loosely to stay for long.

“For you,” Yeyette smiled despite herself; the little girl was easy to please but that was partly her mother’s fault, “We’ll put it on a necklace and hang it on your neck until it fits, how about that?”

“I can keep it?” She asked brightly, “But what if I lose it?”

“I trust you, Manette,” Yeyette took the ring and pulled forth a strip of hide from her bag which would have been used for her hair, “Here.”

She slipped the ring onto the dried sinew and placed it around her daughter’s neck, tying it at the ends so that it rested upon her clavicle. She released it and the little girl brought her fingers up to caress the silver band with pride and joy.

“Make sure you tuck it under your tunic, though,” Yeyette ordered her as she slowly rose to her feet with a groan, “You don’t want to lose it in the snow.”

“The snow?” The girl asked with confusion, again looking around wondrously.

“Yes, we’re leaving after breakfast,” Yeyette explained as she began to search her bag and Twig appeared from one of the tunnels having returned from a nightly hunt, “You make sure to get that beast ready while I pack up. We’re going home. To our true home. It’s not so far away.”


	21. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeyette looks for a place to call home.

Yeyette strained against the rope at her waist, pulling the sledge alongside Twig as he sniffed at the snow. Rather than carry Manette down the mountains, she had opted to have her sit with their belongings on the sled though it had made the weight too burdensome for just the wolf. As an elf, she barely noticed the drag but every once in a while, the vessel would catch and she would have to dislodge it with an extra tug.

It took them two days to reach even ground though they met with slopes as they headed for the capital. Yeyette was still unsure if she would receive welcome there after she had disgraced her family but Legolas had mentioned that her mother was looking for her. Regardless, she could not keep running, not if she wanted to keep her daughter sane. Seeing Legolas so crazed and alone had shaken her and made her fear that she would drive Manette to the very same.

If she was not to be welcomed in the capital, she knew at the very least that her family could not turn away her daughter. She was blood and innocent of any crime. The thought of leaving Manette pained her deeply and a lump formed in her throat as she contemplated truly doing so. She had fought to keep the girl safe for so long, she could not simply abandon her. She tried telling herself that the girl would be well kept and that she could not do as much for her child as her family. No, she would not leave her daughter. She couldn’t. _She was all Yeyette had._

As they came upon a cave opening in the base of the mountain, Yeyette looked to the trees not far away. Through the forest was the shortest path to the city gates but it was a gloomy one. As they neared the edge of the mountain, Twig stopped in place sharply and his ears pricked as his hackles raised with unease. Yeyette’s breath caught as she stilled her feet and placed a calming hand on the wolf’s back, quieting his growls before they could fill the air.

Her elvish ears honed in on the faint sound of near silent footsteps. They were the same as her own, lithe and with the grace of her species. Likely, she had stumbled upon Niqeth rangers but an unknown feeling told her otherwise. The unseen presence set within her a storm which made it difficult to even think. She slowly untied the rope from her waist and turned to Manette who watched with concern from the sled.

Yeyette held a finger to her lips and signaled for Manette to remain where she was as she carefully edged towards the other side of the mountain. She kept near to the rocky overhang and peeked around as she held her breath. A tall elf with broad shoulder looked around himself as if sniffing the air, though it seemed he had the same odd sense that she had. It had been so long since she had seen her brother that it was no wonder that they did not know each other’s auras.

“Ciaran,” She stepped out from behind the stone giant, “What are you…Oh, Ciaran.”

She had lost all restraint as she saw the recognition dawn on her brother’s face and she ran forward to wrap her arms around him. When they had been children, they were as close as any siblings and he had been the only to try to keep her from Mirkwood though he knew he had a duty to his kingdom. His strong arms returned her embrace and she was shocked by how burly he had grown.

Yeyette released Ciaran and held him at arm’s length, admiring him as if he was a memory come to life. _Why, he was as big as their father and his beard just as thick._ Or perhaps it was the spectre of her father come to haunt her. He was too real for that. She confirmed that as she squeezed his arm tightly and struggled to move her lips into words.

“Yeyette, we’ve been looking for you,” His voice was brittle, “For so long. We thought this was just another dead end.”

“We?” She assumed he spoke of whatever party he had recruited for his search but his tone alluded to someone she knew.

“Mother, she is with me, just back at camp,” He explained and now he clutched her shoulders as if she would run away from him, “Where’s, uh…” He looked around and his expression fell, “Ahem, where’s the elfling?”

“How did you–” Yeyette began before furrowing her brow as suspicion rose, “She’s safe, never you worry, but how do you know of her?”

“Your husband,” He answered plainly and yet there was an evasiveness to him, “We know you didn’t just runaway because you were unhappy in your marriage.”

“I was coming home, Ciaran,” She smiled at him as she let her misgivings fade, the nostalgia of her past overtaking her, “If you would have me, that is.”

“And let you get away with father’s sword,” He glanced down at the coveted weapon with a grin, “Well, do I get to meet my niece then?”

* * *

Manette straddled Ciaran as he carried her on his back and she bounced with excitement as he sang a song in a deep voice which reminded Yeyette of their father. Yeyette remained to the rear as she pulled the sledge alongside Twig who had taken almost as fondly to her brother as her daughter. It surprised the princess to see the wolf so friendly and thus it was his next sudden change of mood which had her wary. As they neared a clearing among the tree, the beast began his former growls and tried to break free from the sled as he sniffed furiously at some unsettling scent.

“Oi, what’s with that hound?” Her brother ceased his singing and looked over his shoulder, “I like him but if he’s gone rabid…”

“He’s not rabid,” Yeyette argued and she felt as unnerved as the wolf, “He’s only got a wolf’s keen sense.” Her mouth stiffened as her mistrust was confirmed and she knew who waited just beyond the treeline, “You tricked me, Ciaran.”

“I told you mother was with me,” He shrugged as Manette held onto him cluelessly, “You never asked about anyone else.”

Further discussion was curtailed as Ciaran began to sing again and hop around so that Manettel giggled and they stumbled into camp where a large tent had been erected and several Niqeth guards stood waiting. The sound of the king’s song brought movement from the tent and Queen Thea appeared from behind the flap, her chest rising sharply as she saw Yeyette. Slowly and with an air of numbness, she crossed to her daughter and touched her face softly as her son’s voice finally ceased.

“Yeyette, oh my wonderful daughter, so beautiful,” It was the only time outside her father’s death that Yeyette had seen her mother cry, “I never thought I’d see your face again.”

“Mother, you know that Analee was always the pretty one,” The princess smiled weakly and embraced her mother with a suppressed sob, “I missed you, too.”

“I know, dear,” Thea sniffed and pulled away, her eyes lingering before looking to Ciaran and the pale head peeking out from behind his, “And this must be your daughter.”

“Manette,” Yeyette supplied as the girl shied away, “Come on, Manette, say hello to your grandmother.”

“Grandmother?” The girl’s thick brows crumpled, “That can’t be, she’s a queen.”

“Can’t a woman be both?” Thea challenged as Ciaran set the girl down, “Now step closer and let me get a look at you.”

Yeyette watched as her mother twirled the elfling around and smiled as she felt her soft hair and knelt to tell her how lovely she was. Despite her wariness, Manette chuckled before clinging to her uncle’s leg and trying to hide behind him once more. Yeyette was kept from further enjoying the reunion as the same chill crawled up her spine as only moments before. She looked over reluctantly and saw just outside the tent the very figure she had sensed among the tree.

Thranduil stood with his eyes on the family, his shoulders straight and arms crossed. His blond hair hung down his back as flawlessly as ever and he waited patiently for his introduction. Yeyette sighed and grimaced at her mother and brother but they were too distracted by Manette to care. She detached herself from the others and made her way towards the Mirkwood king with a frown upon her face.

“I told you to stay away,” She sounded as fierce as Twig who was circling the camp with hackles upright, “What do I have to do to live my own life?”

“Is that truly what you want?” He challenged though his voice was not so steely as it had once been, “Tell me, Yeyette, that you never loved me. Tell me and I’ll go. Forever.”

Yeyette remained silent as she looked into his silver-blue eyes and saw in them a vulnerability which had not lain there before. Even in their most intimate moments he had never looked so naked as he did then. She tried to remind herself of why she had fled and the trap he had snagged her in. He had taken her life, her reputation, and her family. Yet, her bitterness was no shield against her own heart.

“I…can’t,” She shook her head and turned away, hiding the single tear which trickled down her nose, “I can’t be with you. You are my husband’s father…and—it would never be allowed. I am disgraced. Scandalized. Worse than that woman who Legolas shamed me with. All that would be laid upon the shoulders of my daughter.”

“ _Our_ daughter,” Thranduil corrected and Yeyette heard movement but would not turn around, “Even if we’ll never know, she’s mine. I know it because she is yours.”

“Please, don’t,” Yeyette covered her face as she held back sobs, “I won’t let you hurt her.”

“Did I ever hurt you? Once?” Thranduil wondered as he sounded as if he had been stabbed, “Elvish tradition is the same in Mirkwood as it is here…Marriage is not so strict as that of man. You and Legolas, your marriage was dissolved by rule of law the moment you ran away and the elves of Mirkwood, they’ve seen greater scandal than a princess committing adultery.”

“It’s not enough, Thranduil, it cannot—” Yeyette turned but almost tripped over her own feet as she found Thranduil knelt before her on his knees.

“I’ll give it up. All of it. For you,” He took her hand in his as he stayed on the ground, “The throne, the palace, all of it. I’ll be a pauper for you. I’ll live with you in these Mountains and if you say no, I won’t stop. I can’t stop. Because I love you more than life itself and without you, what more is life than death.”

“Thranduil, I…” She choked on her tears as they fell without restraint, her hand shaking in his as she tried to fight the voice which grew louder in her head.

 _You love him,_ it said, _don’t be a fool._

Yeyette fell to her knees involuntarily as all strength drained from her body and she collapsed against Thranduil as he wrapped his arms around her gently. She breathed in his scent and it brought her back to all those years ago, when he first laid with her on the forest floor, to the nights she crept away from her husband to be with him, when he sent her secret glances over the table; to those days when she was happy.

“Promise me you’ll protect her,” She pleaded into the shoulder of his robe, her leggings soaked through from the snow, “That’s all I ask.”

“As I will you,” He assured as his fingers brush across her bound curls and his other hand came up to lift her chin, “Until the end of this life and the next.”

“Take us home,” Yeyette whispered as she looked up at Thranduil, her lips hovering close to him, “All I ever wanted was to be home.”

She closed the distance between them and kissed him with all the years they had lost between them. His fervour was even greater as his arms held her tight and he pulled her closer until they toppled and fell into the snow. Neither noticed as they were blanketed in each other’s warmth. Nor did they notice the eyes of a dozen elves as they watched the scene with amusement; the guards with their subtle glances, Ciaran with a devilish smirk, Thea with content, and Manette with the shock of a child. All they knew was they had found each other and they were never letting go.


End file.
